Virtuoso
by TwiAddictAnne
Summary: One name. One man. One goal. One principle. To get the job done and get out ... until one day, the job found its way back to him.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Twilight Saga isn't mine … nor is Edward, sadly. This story, however, is the sole property of Anne Publishing House.**

 **A/N: Hi! Another new journey awaits. I'd like to address that this story is inspired by a K-Drama, but it's going to have my own touches as always. Also, this is a prompt fic based on prompts found on Pinterest. The chapter titles will be indicative of the prompts used. Anyway ... enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter-1: Angel**

* * *

 _EPOV_

* * *

Sunshine.

Bright and beautifully spectacular sun rays shine through the clouds, revealing the sight that leaves me breathless.

Enveloped by the sunlight with the ocean waves rushing up to meet where her feet rest on the clean sand of the beach, she stands. Even though her face is turned away from me, I know that she's the most beautiful creature on earth. Why, you ask? Because it's the way she makes me _feel_.

At the sight of her silhouette, I feel _hope_ … as if I can dream again. She has this aura of calm and peace around her … almost as if she's an angel. _My angel_ , I think to myself as I take a few steps toward her.

"Hi," I greet her.

She starts to turn back to greet me, and that's when I hear it—the sound that irritates the living daylights out of me—the sound of a cackling voice.

 _Damn it, Esme!_

* * *

Sitting up on my bed, I try to rub the sleep away.

"You've got the worst timing in the history of bad timings, Es," I grumble at the giant screen across the room where the grinning face of Daffy Duck mocks me.

"How was I to know that you were sleeping? Most people sleep _at night_ ," came the retort through the speakers hooked up with it.

I can't help but snap at her. "Well most people don't _work_ at night now, do they?" My voice comes out sounding harsher than I intend to.

For a moment, there's silence in my room before her voice comes again, decidedly softer this time. "Was it that good of a dream?"

I sigh. "Yeah."

When I don't elaborate, she prompts me. "Tell me about it, kiddo."

Even though Esme is the one person I trust with my life, I can't bring myself to tell her about what I truly dreamed of. Instead, I offer vaguely, "I was in the island."

A chuckle comes in response to my answer. "That private island in the Bahamas? You're still on that?"

I nod even though she can't see me. "That's my retirement plan. The day I make enough money to buy that island, I'll be bidding you adieu."

She doesn't mock me like I expect her to. No, instead, she sounds energized when she speaks. "Then how about making a little dough to help you? You ready to take on an assignment?"

"No," I reply and then before she can castrate me, I add, "Not until I've had my caffeine fix, I'm not ready for anything."

"Fair enough," she says.

* * *

Once I'm equipped with my large steaming mug of coffee, I call up Esme, my best friend, partner in crime and older sister figure all rolled into one. "So, the case?" I ask without any preamble.

"Hello to you too," she responds before starting to talk in that irritatingly admirable fast-paced way she does. "So this job was a two-parter. One was to locate someone from a tentative sketch. I aced that because I'm the hacking goddess who can get in and out of traffic cams in a snap."

I can't help but roll my eyes at her obvious narcissism. "What's the second part?" I interrupt her boasting tirade.

She clears her throat and says, "That's where you come in. You have to find the actual person from the photo I recovered from the traffic cam footage and get a DNA sample."

I nod once, my eyebrows pulling together in concentration. "Where's the subject located?"

"You're in luck there," she tells me. "She's in Seattle. The traffic cams picked her up around Pike Market Place. So you can snoop around there."

"Fine," I agree before something strikes my mind. "Wait. _She_? The subject is a _girl_?"

"Is that a problem for you?"

I hesitate for a moment before asking slowly, "How am I going to stick a needle in a girl to draw blood?"

Her exasperation is almost palpable as she huffs. "Kid, she's a _girl_. Girls carry purses which contain a hairbrush in 98% of the cases. Grab the hairbrush and you'll find her hair and voila! You've got the DNA sample. Simple."

I pull a face at the way she says 'simple'.

"Are you mocking me, Virtuoso?" she asks knowingly.

I let out a sigh. "The things you make me do, Es. I swear! Guess today Virtuoso will be a purse snatcher."

* * *

 **A/N: So the chapter lengths will be on the shorter side … around 750 words to 1K per chapter. But shorter chapters mean quicker updates. So updating schedule … let's say every other day, shall we?**

 **Also, every chapter will be posted on my wordpress blog, ScribblerAlliance with chapter pics. So Take a peek if you feel like. ;)**

 **Share your thoughts and leave me a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **See you on Wednesday.**

 **Love,**

 **Ann**


	2. Chapter-2: Hunger

**A/N: Thank you so much for the massive response to the first chapter, guys. I'm blown away. So here's the new chappie for you.**

* * *

 **Chapter-2: Hunger**

* * *

 _BPOV_

* * *

Life … it's a strange thing.

With every moment that passes us by, we change, we experience, we live and we evolve.

My life is a strange one, not necessarily unhappy … just strange.

Don't believe me? Well, let me elaborate. My dad, Eleazar Barone, who is a full-time criminal lawyer, has a hobby—coffee art. And to get his fix, he runs a café downstairs to our home. Strange, right?

As if that wasn't enough, he decided to employ many of his old clients after they've been acquitted of their crimes. So basically, I grew up having ex-convicts around the house.

And then there's my job. Instead of being a lawyer like my dad, I decided to become a journalist. A very challenging line of work, right? Well, my job is ten times more challenging than you can imagine because I'm not your typical journalist. No, I'm an entertainment reporter for an internet magazine … also known as paparazzi.

Now now, don't frown upon me. I didn't choose to become a designated stalker of all things celebrity from actors to their dogs. But turns out, if you want to become a serious reporter, you need to have a lot experience in news hunting. So that's what I'm doing right now … gathering experience.

Fixing the pizza delivery person hat on top of my head, I press my finger down on the calling bell and brace myself. It's time to find out just who's the mystery visitor Seattle's top model has been entertaining at her home.

* * *

An hour later, I find myself in the sandwich shop across from my office, my hunger for spicy news diminished by the mystery visitor turning out to be none other than Tanya Denali's sister.

Equipped with my sustenance also known as Chicken Salad Sandwich, I start walking out of the shop just when my phone chirps with an incoming message. I look down at the message and cringe.

 _You better have a scoop for me when you show your face around the office ~ Clearwater_

Leah Clearwater, my editor in chief, was a woman of many talents, but being patient wasn't one of them. Heaving a sigh, I walk out of the shop and head for the bus stop, figuring I'll snoop around Tanya's house some more to find out if she's really hooking up with Laurent Stalin or not. Did I mention that I hate stalking people for a living?

The bus comes right on time. I lower the cap on my head, shielding my eyes from the sunlight and get on. Placing my backpack at my feet, I doze off for a moment, resting my eyes, if you will. I almost fall asleep … almost, until something catches my eyes. Opening my eyes, I see a man in black clothes get off the bus … with my backpack slung on his shoulder!

I look down at my feet, and sure enough the spot where my backpack was is empty. "Wait!" I yell as the bus doors start to close. "Wait! He's running off with my bag! Stop!" I make my way to the doors and jump down from the bus. For a second, I try to take in my surroundings before a hint of black catches the corners of my eyes.

"Thief!" I scream as I take off in that way. He turns his head to look at my way and then runs off in the direction of an alleyway. I don't hesitate in following him, determined to get my things back.

I watch as he rushes into an empty-looking pub and heads for the washrooms. Without breaking my stride, I follow him right to the closed door to the men's room.

"Open up, you thief!" I shout as I slam my hands on the door. "Give me back my bag!"

There's a soft sound of a click and the door opens a crack. I don't allow myself to think of the repercussions of my actions as I push it open and step inside just before the door slams closed behind me.

In front of me, I see the contents of my bag strewn all over the small countertop of the washroom. Behind me, I feel his presence. I start to turn my head back to look at him when a hand comes up to cover my mouth while another hand grabs my hands behind my back, pulling me back to a hard chest.

 _Fuck fuck fuckity fuck!_ I curse in my head. I curse myself for letting myself get into this situation.

I wait for something to happen. _Will he hurt me? Will he kill me?_ I start to panic. I watch as he reaches out toward where my paper knife lay on the sink, and my heart drops to my stomach.

 _Shit! I'm going to die. Will dad find me here?_

Closing my eyes tightly, I wait for my life to flash before my eyes and then for it to go away with a simple cut to my throat. However, no flashes come. Instead, I feel him pull one of my hands up to his face and then … _clip … clip … clip_ … he clips three fingernails from my right hand using my nail clipper!

 _What …?_

He pulls me back to him and then brings his mouth to my ear. "You really shouldn't have followed me in here. It could be dangerous for you," a velvety soft voice whispers in my ear. "Also, you should carry a hairbrush in your bag like a regular girl."

Before I can muster up enough strength to ask him who he is, my arms are released and he's gone.

As I stand there, bracing my hands on the sink, I try to make sense of what just happened to me.

 _Who was he?_

* * *

 **A/N: So … thoughts?**

 **Share them with me and leave a review.**

 **The chapter will be available on my blog, ScribblerAlliance along with the chapter pic. Check it out if you want.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **See you on Friday.**

 **Love.**

 **Ann**


	3. Chapter-3: Horses

**A/N: Another new chapter awaits you, my dear readers. So let's see where this takes us, shall we?**

* * *

 **Chapter-3: Horses**

* * *

"That was reckless of you," Esme chastises me once I've delivered the DNA samples to the given address and returned to my place. "What if she saw your face?"

I roll my eyes at her, glad that she can't see me. "Hold your horses, woman! How else was I supposed to get a DNA sample? She didn't have a hairbrush like most girls."

"What girl doesn't carry a hairbrush in that big of a backpack?"

"Indeed," I say, feeling intrigued by the contents of her bag. "She had a change of clothes, a beanie, pencils, pens, nail clipper, paper knife … everything but a hairbrush."

There's silence on the other side of the phone before Esme lets out a deep breath. "Let's hope that she didn't see your face," she tells me, sounding more like she's convincing herself than me. "Grab a nap when you can, Kiddo, we've got another assignment coming up soon."

I pull a face. "What happened to taking a few days off in between assignments?" Irritation seeps out of my voice.

"This is a quickie. You just have to deliver a parcel from one spot to another."

"That's all?" I ask. "How much are they paying?"

"Two hundred grand."

"Just for delivering a parcel?" I ask dubiously.

Esme doesn't respond for a moment before mumbling softly, "You also have to deliver the parcel carrier with it."

I can't help but let out a snort. "Now you're talking." Clapping my hands together in anticipation, I say, "Hit me with the deets."

Upon hearing the details, I wonder why the customer required the service of the most expensive night currier, namely me, Virtuoso, for simply escorting a man from the airport to a hotel across town, but then I shrug it off. _Who cares why they need me instead of a cheaper asshole? As long as it pays and doesn't involve killing someone, I'm up to the task._

* * *

 _Meanwhile in another part of the town ..._

* * *

Holding his head in his hands, Carlisle Cullen stares at the folder lying in front of him. "Are you sure about it?" he can't help but ask once more.

Instead of being irritated by his repetition, Emmett, his intern, nods vigorously. "I checked with the lab four times. This is as authentic as it gets. The samples you gave me are perfect. There's 99.99% chance of one subject being the other's daughter."

Letting out the breath he didn't even know he was holding in, Carlisle closes his eyes. Relief, grief and guilt washes through him as he opens the folder and picks up the DNA test report.

"Give me a moment alone, Emmett," he requests his subordinate. The moment the door closes behind Emmett, he opens his desk drawer and pulls out an old yellowing photograph of five people—four men and one woman in the middle.

Carlisle reaches out to run a finger along the woman's photograph. "Forgive me," he whispers earnestly to the photograph, his eyes fixed on her face. "Forgive me, please. I will make this right even if it's the last thing I do."

Putting away the photograph back in its place, he folds the report carefully and puts it inside one of the hidden pockets of his jacket and then picks up his cellphone.

Two rings and the voice of his cousin brother greets him. "Carlisle, how are you, my brother?" Phil sounds exhausted judging by the sound of his voice.

"I'm good," Carlisle responds. He hesitates for a moment before asking, "How's Reneé doing today? I know it's been awhile since I visited. Is she mad at me for skipping sunday brunch again?"

Phil chuckles. "You know your cousin-in-law. She loves to treat us to her amazing culinary skills." Then his voice turns sad as he sighs. "She's not good, Carlisle. She's been having seizures regularly as Mary's death anniversary draws closer."

Carlisle frowns, thinking hard. "What did the doctor say?"

"He suggested that we keep her away from any emotional distresses because that seems to be the trigger for her seizures."

 _Shit! This will turn her world upside down,_ Carlisle thinks to himself.

"I see," he says slowly. "Well, I'll try to come by soon to check on her. Take care, brother." With that he disconnects the call. Then with a heavy heart he pulls out the envelop containing the DNA report and places it inside the safe he keeps in his office, hiding away the truth from the world … once again.

* * *

 **A/N: So a night currier is like a mercenary, just to clarify.**

 **Anyway, thoughts? Share them with me and leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **I'll be taking weekends off. So see you Monday.**

 **Have a terrific weekend.**

 **Love,**

 **Ann**


	4. Chapter-4: Candy Wrapper

**A/N: Hope you had a good weekend. Let's dive back into the world of Virtuoso, shall we?**

* * *

 **Chapter-4: Candy Wrapper**

* * *

 _Three days later_

* * *

EPOV

* * *

Just as I lift the pizza slice to to my mouth, the dreaded cackling sound comes through the speakers. "Well, hello!" Esme's voice greets me. "You've had your breakfast, right?"

I aim a dark look at the grinning Daffy Duck which is her caller symbol and pretty much growl. "You have a camera installed around here, haven't you?"

"Who, me? Why would you even think that?" She sounds way too innocent to be sincere.

"Because you seem to call exactly when I'm sitting down to eat," I tell her in a no-nonsense voice.

"Aww ..." she croons. "I was offering you some company while you enjoyed your frozen dinner."

"Hah! So you _have_ installed a camera in here!"

"Yes," she says simply, without offering me the location of the camera in question. "Now do you think you've recouped from the delivery job?"

"What? The currier from L.A.?" I ask with a scoff. "It was a breeze, Es. Although Volturi's people showed up at the pick up point, it went smoothly."

Esme lets out a small curse at that information. "Volturi Guards? How did they know about this?"

I shrug. "Volturi's got his resources," I say thoughtfully. "Besides, they're our top competitor in the business. Although they pretty much suck at the job," I add.

Esme snorts at my remark. "If only we had the gadgets they have!" I detect a little wistfulness in her tone. "It's a pity they don't have my genius to tell them how to utilize those."

"Aren't you the epitome of humility!"

She lets my smartass comment slip and instead says, "I've got another job queued for you."

"Already?" I groan. "It's only been two days since the last job!"

"It's from an old customer," she tells me. "The DNA sampler."

"Oh!" For a moment, I'm stunned that they need my services again. Then I ask, "What's the job?"

"Remember the girl you collected DNA samples from?"

"Vividly," I say, a small smile coming over my face as I remember how brave she was.

"You need to find out if she's truly happy where she is."

I blink. "That's it?" I ask.

"Yep."

For a second, I consider not accepting the job because of its simplicity, but the thought of seeing that fire in her eyes once more make me say yes even before I know what I'm saying.

* * *

After Esme has given me the details on Isabella Barone, aka the DNA girl, I set out for her listed place of residence; which happens to be on the top floor of a building owned by her father, Eleazar Barone, public prosecutor.

When I reach the address, dressed in casual attire, I'm greeted by the smell of freshly baked cinnamon buns. For a moment, I'm baffled by the presence of a café in the ground floor of the place that's supposed to house the office of the lawyer. But then, I notice a movement from inside through the window … a couple dancing to old 80's music.

Curiosity gets the best of me and instead of observing from afar like my usual style, I find myself pushing open the door to the café, Tasty Treat, and stepping inside. What I see is shockingly sweet and I feel my lips stretch into a smile on their own volition.

There, in the middle of the empty café, stood DNA girl with an elderly man who I assume is her father, Eleazar. The duo dances in horrible imitation of 80's moves complete with lip syncing with the music blaring from the sound system. But it's their smiles that make me stop. Their goofy smiles tell me one thing and that is, Isabella Barone is anything but unhappy. The café gives off a warmth like I've never felt before—the warmth of a happy home.

I almost think of walking out of the door when a woman comes down the stairs, her eyes finding me immediately. With her dark hair and soft blue eyes she emanates kindness in a way only a mother can. She smiles warmly at me as she walks up to me. "Hi, welcome to Tasty Treat," she greets me. "I'm sorry about those two. They can't help themselves when there's music." She looks behind her and shakes her head at the father and daughter duo amiably. "I'm Carmen Barone. Please have a seat."

Motioning me toward a table, she moves to hug the DNA girl from the side and whispers something in her ear. I watch as DNA girl's face reddens as her mother possibly informs her of my presence. She looks in my way and offers a small smile before rushing up the stairs.

Her father bursts into laughter and comes to me. "I'm sorry you got caught into our impromptu dance party," he tells me apologetically. "May I take your order?"

Few minutes later as I'm biting into the fluffy pieces of heaven called Cinnamon buns, I realize that Isabella Barone has the perfect life and I can't help but envy her a little.

* * *

I hang around her house until she gets out to take the bus and then I'm on her tail … staying just out of her sight, but never letting her out of mine.

When she gets on a bus, I hail a taxi. After a bit, she gets off of the bus and takes a taxi. When we reach an apartment complex instead of the office of a newspaper's office where she's supposed to work, I'm at a loss. _What's she doing here?_

I let my taxi go when she gets off of hers and enters the complex.

I know I should leave her be now that I know she's got a loving home, but I can't let her go … not yet. Driven by a thirst to find out more about her, I stick to the shadows, hoping to see this through.

However, instead of heading for the elevators, she runs through the parking lot, looking at the number plates of the cars parked there. Just as I'm wondering if she's a thief or something, I hear her speak to herself. "063 - LXS, yes! Gotcha', Laurent Stalin!" She fist pumps in the air in a silent celebration, leaving me thoroughly confused.

 _Who the fuck is Laurent Stalin?_ I wonder.

She starts to walk toward the elevators when a car rushes into the lot. I watch her duck behind a car and I follow her lead, hiding behind a pillar myself. From my hiding place, I see as the car door opens and a woman is almost shoved out of it. "Fix your face, you bitch," someone snaps at her.

The woman tries to get back into the car. "Please don't do this," she pleads with whoever is in the car. But the man inside just pushes her away, spitting at her fit. "Make me proud," he says in a leery voice. And then after closing the door, the car drives out of the lot, leaving the woman standing there all alone.

She slowly walks toward the elevator, dashing away what must be tears. I decide to not get caught up into her drama when I've got another to focus on, but when I look at Isabella, I realize that I just might get caught up in it anyway. Because a few feet away from me, crouching behind a car, Isabella Barone was wiping away at her eyes and standing up.

 _Damn! I don't do crying chicks._

I watch as Isabella reaches the elevator just as the doors close. "Shoot!" she cries out as she watches the floor number go up … up … up to the top floor. "I'm sorry, Leah," she speaks to herself once more, making me wonder whether she's a little cuckoo in the head or not. "I think she's a jumper. I have to cover that instead of the Denali-Stalin fling." Then she's pressing her finger down on the call button, tapping her foot on the floor in impatience as the elevator comes back down.

Heaving a sigh, I realize what I must do to keep an eye on her and make my way to the stairwell. I take three steps at a time and manage to reach the rooftop right when the elevator doors ding open. I stay hidden in the shadows as I watch Isabella rush to the roof and then stop in her tracks.

From my position, I watch the blonde woman from the parking lot as she stands in the ledge of the roof. With her arms spread out, she shakes like a discarded candy wrapper about to take flight. And then, she jumps.

* * *

 **A/N: So … intrigued? Share your thoughts with me and leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **See you Wednesday.**

 **Do check out the chapter pic in my blog, ScribblerAlliance.**

 **Love,**

 **Ann**


	5. Chapter-5: Time

**A/N: Just a quick clarification: Laurent Stalin is a celebrity who our Paparazzi Bella was tailing when she found the blonde woman. Stalin did not push the blonde out of the car. That was someone you'll meet in due time. Sorry for the confusion.**

 **So with that cleared up, let's read, shall we?**

* * *

 **Chapter-5: Time**

* * *

 _BPOV_

* * *

The sight of her, perched on the edge of the roof like an autumn leaf ready to fall off a tree jolts something deep within me. Time seems to slow down as I watch her move. I don't know how I do it. Call it adrenaline rush if you will, but I lurch forward and grab onto her elbow just as she steps off the ledge. "No!" I cry out as I pull on her arm, making her stumble back into the safety of the roof.

"Are you out of your mind?" I admonish her. "You think it's so easy to die?"

Instead of being thankful to me for saving her life, the girl jolts herself free of my grip, lets out a sob and then falls down to her knees. "Oh shit!" I swear softly at my tactless behavior and kneel down in front of her. "Let's start this again, shall we?" I ask in a soft voice. When she doesn't answer, I move a tendril of her shiny blonde hair and then I gasp. There, on her temple is a bruise as is on her chin.

"Who hit you?" I ask in horror. I wait for her answer, but she keeps on sobbing. When I realize that I'm not going to get an answer out of her, I decide to change my approach. "Please, I can't help you if you don't tell me about it."

I watch as her lips move without making a sound. When I move closer to her, I hear her whisper, "Just let me die please. It's better than living like this."

Her words anger me and despite knowing better, I let it blow out. "Really? You think so? You think nothing can be worse than dying? Is that it?" I know I'm practically yelling and that isn't the right approach to this situation, but I can't stop it now. So I keep going. "You're wrong."

She lifts her head then, her piercing blue eyes almost glaring at me. "If I'm dead, they can't hurt me anymore."

"If you die now, you'll die a coward," I reiterate. "You need to live and avenge yourself. Make them pay for hurting you. Don't let your life go in vain."

Her face crumbles in pain then and suddenly, she looks broken beyond words. She lifts her hands to cover her face with them and mumbles, "They're too powerful. And I am all alone."

"No, you're not," I tell her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "My dad is a lawyer and I am a journalist. Tell me about your story and I promise I'll help you get justice."

She looks up at me, her eyes still wet with tears. "You promise they'll pay for this?"

I nod, hoping like hell that I'm doing the right thing. "Yes. I, Isabella Barone, give you my word."

"Thank you," she whispers, bowing her head in gratitude.

I take her hand and squeeze it. "What's your name?"

"Rosalie Hale. Rose."

I start to stand up and give her hand a tug. "Come with me, Rose and we'll see about the assholes who hurt you."

* * *

 _EPOV_

* * *

I don't know why I do it, but I do. Even though I can hear Esme's voice telling me in my head that it's time to leave the girl alone, I don't. No, instead, I follow Isabella and her new friend, Rosalie, back to her home.

From the roof of the building across from hers, I see her father do a lot of hand gestures as Isabella seems to be trying to talk him into helping Rosalie. The moment Rosalie enters the room, however, both father and daughter stops talking and in walks Mrs. Barone, carrying a tray filled with food. I zoom in my binoculars at Isabella's face just in time to catch her give her parents a pleading pout. Eleazar's expression softens and he says something to the room which results in Rosalie leaping up from her seat to hug Isabella.

Just as I begin to feel like I'm intruding on a private moment of a family, my phone rings with the tone assigned to Esme. "Yeah?" I answer, pressing the button on my bluetooth.

For the first time since I've known her, Esme doesn't tear me a new one for not greeting her properly. Instead, when she speaks, her voice is a broken whisper. "Virtuoso, you need to run."

"Run?" I repeat, stunned by the suddenness of her words. "Where? Why? What's wrong?"

"David Simmons, your last assignment, has been killed. His body was discovered half an hour ago."

My eyebrows pull together in confusion. "That's unfortunate, but what does that have to do with me? My assignment was over days ago."

She lets out a huff of frustration and then says quietly, "You're the main suspect."

* * *

 **A/N: So … share your thoughts with me and leave a review?**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Chapter pic will be available on my blog, ScribblerAlliance, along with the chapter update.**

 **See you on Friday.**

 **Love,**

 **Ann**


	6. Chapter-6: To do

**A/N: On a quick note, this chapter contains mentions of abuse so approach with caution. You've been warned.**

* * *

 **Chapter-6: To do**

* * *

 _BPOV_

* * *

After making sure that dad was going to allow Rosalie to stay at our place for a while since the men coming after her know her address, I go to my room and sit down to list down the things to do in my head. First up is to face the wrath of Leah. Instead of calling her up, I decide to go down at the office and face her head on.

Leaving Rosalie in my mom's care, I head to the office, praying like hell that Leah would be on leave today.

Of course because I've the worst luck in history of bad lucks, my Editor, who happens to be an overly hormonal creature at the moment—thanks to the twins she's carrying, is present and is out for blood … _my_ blood, to be exact.

"BARONE!" she screeches at the sight of my face, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kick your lazy ass to the curb."

I hold up a finger to stop her and reply, "Um … because I'm a sweetheart?" When I see her open her mouth, I hastily add, "And because we're friends?"

She huffs and then picks up a bunch of printouts and thrusts them to my face. "THIS! You see this, Barone? Every, and I mean EVERY, online tabloid published this story today. EVERYONE, except us, Inside Out. Why?" She waits for a heartbeat before holding her index finger up to me accusingly. "Because _you_ , my _star_ reporter, weren't in position when Laurent Stalin was seen doing the walk of shame out of TANYA-FREAKING-DENALI's house!"

I clench my eyes shut and hang my head, not making a protest because I know I deserve that.

Leah stops mid-sentence to look at me closely. "What's wrong with you?" she asks.

"What?"

She motions jerkily with her hands and asks, "Why haven't you made a peep yet? Usually, you'd be sweet-talking me already. Did something happen?"

I start to shake my head before remembering my promise to Rosalie. "I'm sorry we lost the scoop," I tell Leah sincerely. "But I might have something worth publishing in my hands."

She narrows her eyes, takes my elbow in her hand and pulls me aside. "I'm listening."

Hesitantly, I start, "I think I've found a news about a woman being abused, possibly tortured even. I have to verify it before submitting the final report, of course ..."

She holds up a hand to stop me. "Don't bother." When she sees the question in my eyes, she says impatiently, "Bella, we're an _entertainment_ magazine. We scout news about celebrities and bring them to people. We don't do abuse reports."

"But it might be our chance to report something newsworthy for the first time!" I exclaim before lowering my voice. "Why can't we publish real news too? The news that matters?"

She pulls a face and then reaches over to pick up a local newspaper from a desk. "Take this for example," she says, holding the newspaper up to me. "When someone gets their hands on this, the first thing they'll do is check out the headlines in the front page. What do you think they'll do next?"

I shrug. "Turn the page over?"

"Exactly!" she responds, snapping her fingers. "They'll turn the page over. But to where?" Before I can utter a word, she continues, "If it's a guy, there's 99% chance that he'll go to the sports page and if it's a girl, in 99% cases she'll go for the entertainment pages."

"And the remaining 1 percent?"

"Will check out the business page because they have businesses to run." She grabs my shoulders and shakes me slightly. "So you see Bella, no one … _no one_ will read the 'real' news."

I start to open my mouth but she holds a finger up to shush me. "No means no, Bella. Now why don't you prepare questions to ask Laurent when he steps out for the shooting of his new film tomorrow? I don't want any mistakes this time."

My shoulders drop like a puppy who just lost its treat. _I'm sorry, Rosalie,_ I think as I head for my desk to find information on Laurent Stalin.

* * *

By the time I get home, I'm ready to crash into my bed, but the look in my mom's eyes when she opens the door tells me that something is up.

She answers my unspoken question by pointing toward the den. "Rosalie," she mouths. Intrigued, I follow her to the den.

There I find Rosalie with my dad, sitting across from each other while a sombre mood hangs around us all. It's mom who breaks the silence. "Now that Bella is here, Rosalie, why don't you tell us about yourself?"

Rosalie plucks at the shirt I let her borrow from my closet. "You don't have to if you don't want to," dad says, probably trying to put her in ease. It works. Sitting up straighter, Rosalie starts her tale.

"I'm Rosalie Hale, as you already know. I'm not well known, but I've worked in some small budget films so far. My journey started when I went to L.A. as an aspiring actress. My face got me parts, but I had to sign up with an agent to help me get auditions. But soon, my agent, Royce King, started asking me to attend these "social parties" to form connections. I didn't think much of it and went along with it until one night I woke up to find myself naked, intoxicated and in bed with a man I didn't know."

"Shit!" I swear under my breath.

Rosalie continues with her story, her face devoid of emotions. "I came running to Royce, hoping he'll help me. He told me that he's taking me away from those and brought me here, promising a job. But when we arrived in Seattle, he revealed his true plans. Turns out, the man I woke up in bed with is a very influential man, and he's offered Royce a lot of money for me."

"That horrible man!" Mom cries out, tears running down her cheeks.

Dad reaches out to place a hand on Mom's knee to calm her down and then asks Rosalie, "Why didn't you go to the police?"

Rosalie shakes her head as a sad smile comes over her face. "I can't, because Royce threatened me. He has video records of that man and I. And if I go to the police, then he'd send those videos to my parents. My dad would die of shame and I couldn't do that to him."

"Is that why you were trying to take your own life today?" I can't help but ask.

She nods. "It seemed the only way to end this."

I reach over to place a hand on her shoulder and say, "It isn't, not by a long shot. Even if you kill yourself, Royce will find another girl for him and then another. Killing yourself would not stop them."

She looks at me with a desperation in her eyes. "Then what can I do?"

It's dad who answers her. "Fight. You have to fight against them. If you want, I will represent your case as your lawyer and my Bella can write about the abuse you had to go through in her magazine."

She stares at her hands and mumbles softly, "But I have no money to give you, Mr. Barone."

"I'll do it pro bono," Dad tells her.

Rosalie loses the battle to control her tears then. Sobbing uncontrollably, she thanks us all for being there for her.

* * *

With everything that's happened, I offer Rosalie a beer after my parents have gone to bed. And while she nurses her one beer, I down two … or maybe four, wishing I could unhear what poor Rosalie had to go through. By the time I've finished my sixth beer, I've declared Rosalie as my soul sister.

Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I ask her, "Who's the asshole that thought it was okay to buy a person?"

"Jake Black," she murmurs.

I feel my eyes widen. "J-J-Jacob Black? The Senator?"

She nods. "The same."

"What a fucktard!" I start cursing him some more when I'm struck with a brilliant idea. "Eureka!" Without saying another word, I power up my laptop and pull up the our magazine's website.

An hour later, I close my laptop lid and give Rosalie a satisfied grin. "And it's published."

"What is?"

Proudly, I say, "Your story. I just published it in our website."

* * *

 **A/N: So … thoughts?**

 **Share them with me and leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Check out the chapter pic on ScribblerAlliance blog.**

 **See you on Monday. Have a lovely weekend.**

 **Love,**

 **Ann**


	7. Chapter-7: A Key

**A/N: Hope all of you had a great weekend. I know I did. Got my post-graduation degree this weekend. :)**

 **On another note, I'd like to thank Tarbecca for rec'ing this little story of mine in the ADifferentForest Fic Dive.**

 **Anyway, let's see what Virtuoso is up to.**

* * *

 **Chapter-7: A Key**

* * *

 _EPOV_

* * *

I sit in my bed with my head in my hands as I hear Esme list all the reasons why I should go into hiding. "According to the cops, you were the one Simmons was last seen with," she says.

"That's not right," I protest. "I delivered him to the hotel he requested to be delivered and then I got out of there. I even bought that bastard dinner before leaving him."

"What did you pay with?"

Esme's question makes me roll my eyes. "Es, I'm no ametuer. I paid with cash as always. No paper trail, you know that."

"That's good," Esme says, letting out a sigh of relief. "But ..."

"But?"

"A paper was found next to Simmons' body."

"Okay," I reply slowly. "What about it?"

"It's got your code name and email address written on it."

"Fuck!" I swear. "No wonder the cops think I have something to do with it." A sudden thought crosses my mind, and I ask, "Esme?"

"Yes, Kid?"

"Do you know the name of my employer? The one who asked me to get Isabella's DNA?"

"Why? You never want to know who's employing you. That's the reason we get paid higher than most mercenaries." I can feel the surprise in her voice when she asks, "Why do you want to know who hired you all of a sudden?"

I run my fingers through my hair, pulling them in frustration. "Think about it, Esme. The person, whoever it is, asked me to find out more about her. And while I was busy with that, another subject of mine drops dead? Isn't it too convenient?"

"You think you're being framed?" Esme's voice rises an octave.

I nod, knowing she'll be able to see me. "It does seem like that, do you think?"

"That asshole!" she swears.

"Ha!" I say, "You called him an asshole. So it's a guy!" Narrowing my eyes at the screen, I ask, "You've tracked him down already, haven't you?"

"I may have."

I sit up straighter. "And? Who is it?"

"You know that big time TV reporter, Carlisle Cullen?" When I draw a blank, she huffs. "Honestly, Kid, it won't kill you to watch the news once in awhile, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. What about that guy?"

"He's the one who borrowed your services."

I can't help but frown. "Why would a reporter need the services of a mercenary? And more importantly, why is he so interested in Isabella?"

"Why indeed," Esme echos. "Do you think there's something off about him?"

I nod. "I'm sure of it. But it's like I'm missing a key to this mystery."

 _Who is this Carlisle Cullen?_

* * *

 _BPOV_

* * *

The sun light hits my eyes, making me groan. "Someone shut off the sun," I mumble as I turn over in my sleepy state.

I feel a hand shake me awake lightly. "Wake up, honey."

"Mom," I groan, positively sounding like a petulant teenager. "I wanna sleep in."

"Your phone has been ringing nonstop for over an hour, honey," mom tells me in a sympathetic voice. "Maybe it's something important."

I open an eye and look at her, shielding my eyes with my hand. "Who is it?"

"Leah."

In an instance, my sleep evaporates, and I'm sitting up in my bed as if electrocuted. "I must be late! Shit!" Blindly, I reach for my phone and pick up the call. "Leah, I'm so sorry."

"Not as sorry as you're gonna be when I get my hands on you, Barone!" From the other side of the call, Leah barks. "You better have a damn good explanation."

 _For being a little late?_ I frown. _This pregnancy thing has turned her into a dictator!_

"I know, I know. I'm late," I say, hoping to pacify her. "I'm already out of the door as we speak."

"Late? _Late?_ " she repeats, sounding like she's at a loss for words. "You think I care about you being late after you published an article on the tabloid without so much as a consult with me?"

"Article ...?" I start and then it hits me. _Rosalie!_ _I published an article about Rosalie's story in my drunken stupor last night!_

"L-Leah, I ..." She cuts me off and says in severe tone, "Get your ass here right now, Barone. You owe me a damage control." And then, she hangs up on me, leaving me gaping like a fish out of water.

 _Oh Budweiser, why didn't you leave me a little wiser?_ I want to cry out as I get ready to face the consequences of my actions.

* * *

 **A/N: So … thoughts?**

 **Share them with me and leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Watch out for the chapter pic in the ScribblerAlliance Blog.**

 **See you on Wednesday.**

 **Love,**

 **Ann**


	8. Chapter-8: Feathers

**A/N: Sorry for not posting on Wednesday. My Grandfather passed away so I had to be with my family.**

 **Hope every one of you is doing good. To my Bengali readers, a very happy and prosperous Bangla new year to you all.**

* * *

 **Chapter-8: Feathers**

* * *

As Carlisle pulls up the latest headlines of the day after taking the first sip of his morning coffee, he almost spits it out when his eyes catch a headline:

 **Online Tabloid Accuses Senator of Sexual Abuse: Senator May File Harassment Charges.**

Slamming down his coffee mug, he puts on his glasses and reads the article earnestly. It reads-

 _A lesser known online tabloid, Inside Out, has published an article about a struggling actress who was sexually abused by a_ "powerful member of the senate having the initials of J. B." _. This actress who has been left unnamed claims she has been forced to have physical relationships with the senate member by means of blackmailing. With only the Senator and future Mayoral candidate, Jacob Black, having the heretofore mentioned initials in the senate, it can be construed that the accusing finger has been pointed right at him._

 _There are speculations that the Senator may file harassment charges against both the staff reporter who penned the article and the tabloid itself. Isabella Barone, the daringly imprudent reporter of Inside Out was unavailable for any comments at the time of this report._

"Isabella ..." Carlisle murmurs to himself. "Isabella Barone." Dropping the newspaper on his desk, he stands up to go on a search for Alice Brandon, his Chief Editor, his coffee long forgotten.

"Alice!" he calls out when he spies the elegantly styled head full of raven colored hair.

At the sound of his voice, Alice turns around and her dark eyes fill with her smile as she greets him. "Carlisle! Hi!"

Carlisle can't help but smile back in return, well aware of her school-girl crush on him and knowing how absurd it is. "Hey, boss lady," he greets back, walking up to her. "Do you have a minute?"

"For my star reporter?" she asks flirtatiously. "Always. Your office or mine?"

"Yours," Carlisle chooses, so that he can leave when he's done pitching his idea.

With the click-clock of her heels, Alice leads the way, leaving Carlisle to follow her. Once they're in her office, she closes the door and takes a seat at her desk, motioning Carlisle to follow her suit.

He shakes his head, letting her know that he's okay with standing. When he's sure he has her undivided attention, he starts, "So have you had the time to go through the headlines today?"

She nods before raising a questioning eyebrow at him. "Anything pique your interest?"

With a nod, he answers, "The story about the Senator. I think it can be something big ..."

Alice starts to shake her head even before he's finished talking. "No, no, no, that's not happening. We have to keep our focus on the Olympics right now. Besides, that's probably just a publicity stunt."

"A publicity stunt?" Carlisle repeats ridiculously. "Who says that?"

"I do," Alice says, her expression hardening a little. "So does the Board of Directors. You might not remember, Carlisle, but the Senator is a friend of your cousin brother, who just happens to be the owner of this news agency."

Carlisle scoffs. "Since when do we cater news to suit my brother? Or his friends for that matter? A news is a story people deserve to know. And as a reporter, I cannot let it be on my conscience that something like this go untold by us."

"I'm not saying that it needs to go untold," Alice remarks, rubbing her temple with her fingertips. "Why don't we leave this story to the one who found it originally? Isabella … whatever? She might be a struggling reporter. Why not let her have her five minutes of fame?"

Carlisle feels an anger spreading through his chest. Trying to keep his rage at bay, he tries to reason with her. "She's probably a rookie, Alice. If the Senator feels like she's ruffling his feathers, he'll sue. Then she'll have to face the wolves alone. She'll crumble under the pressure and this news will die down. But if we back her then no one will dare to come directly at her."

Alice makes a tutting sound out of irritation. "Why do you care if the wolves come at her? She's a reporter, right? Well, then she should know how to handle an article she wrote."

"But ..."

Alice holds a hand up to stop him. "I'm done talking about this, Carlisle. Why don't you go and get ready for the interview with the Olympic swimming team?"

"Is that your final word?"

"On that topic?" Alice asks and then adds, "Yes, although, I should tell you to change your tie if you can, that yellow clashes horribly with the navy suit."

Carlisle stands up slowly from his seat and then reaches for a sheet of paper lying on her desk. "May I use this?" he asks politely. When Alice nods with a quizzical look on her face, he scribbles a sentence on the back of it and then places it in front of her.

The paper reads:

 _ **From this moment on, I, Carlisle Cullen, resign from my position at TBC News.**_

"Is this a joke?" Alice asks, looking flabbergasted.

"You decide," he answers before turning around and walking out of the doors.

* * *

Once he's back to his home, unemployed for the first time since he can remember, he pulls up the number for Isabella Barone in the directory. Taking a deep breath, he presses dial.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings.

Then someone picks up the call and a soft feminine voice asks from the other side, "Hello?"

"Isabella Barone?" he asks.

"Yes, who's this?"

"This is Carlisle Cullen, from TBC News."

"Oh!" A silence falls over the phone for a moment before the voice gushes, "Wow. Are you really Carlisle Cullen? I'm a big fan of yours. You're my idol, you know? You inspired me to pursue this career. I'm a reporter, by the way."

He feels a smile stretch over his lips as he realizes that the little girl he used to play around with has grown up to become more like her mother than she could ever imagine. "Thank you," he says once she's quietened down. "I'm calling about your article … about the Senator."

"Oh!" Her voice sounds muted as she says, "It's not a lie. I've been bombarded with questions about it, but I have an authentic source."

Hearing her defensiveness, Carlisle says quickly, "I'm not doubting you."

"You're not?" She sounds surprised.

"No," he answers. But I have a proposition for you."

"A proposition?"

"Yes, give me the story." When he hears her sharp intake of breath from the other side, he hastens to add, "I'm not trying to steal your story, Ms. Barone, but I really think you've chewed off more than you can digest. I can help you there."

"So ..." she says slowly. "You want my article because you want to protect me?"

"Yes, you and your source."

"Wow," she whispers. "You must think I'm super dumb, don't you?"

"Listen ..."

She cuts him off. "No, _you_ listen. _I_ wrote this article and I am going to defend it myself. I don't know if you've gotten your legendary articles by paying off some unknown journalists or what, but let me make one thing clear to you, Mr. Cullen, I am not for sale, nor is my story. Have a good day." With that she hangs up.

For a moment, Carlisle stares at the phone in his hands before a smile starts to form on his face. "You can't stop your Uncle Carlisle from protecting you, Mary," he says as he starts typing out an email on his phone. After sending it off to the now familiar address, he dials a number. Come what may happen, he's going to protect that girl with everything he has.

* * *

 **A/N: Hope a lot has cleared up with this chapter.**

 **But we're not done weaving the mystery yet. So sit tight.**

 **Share your thoughts with me and leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **The chapter pic will be available on ScribblerAlliance for you.**

 **See you on Monday.**

 **Have a Happy Easter.**

 **Love,**

 **Ann**


	9. Chapter-9: Phones

**A/N: Thank you for your condolences. Please keep my family in your prayers, whichever religion you follow.**

* * *

 **Chapter-9: Phones**

* * *

 _EPOV_

* * *

"This doesn't feel right."

Silently, I place a dollop of hair gel on the palm of my hand and start applying it on my hair, trying to calm the perpetual chaotic mess it is.

"This is so wrong."

As I start brushing my fingers through my hair, I finally break down and say, "You can admit you're worried about me, Es."

A huffing noise comes through the speaker. "Oh please! Why would I be worried for your sorry ass? You can go and get yourself in trouble as you like, just don't expect me to come save you." A few seconds pass before she bursts out, "Of course I worry about you, you silly boy! We may have a business relationship but you're like my little brother … like the only family I've got."

I can't help the smile that comes over my face. "Now now, Esme Platt. Don't go soft on me."

"Shut it, Masen," she snarks, calling me by my real name. "Let someone care for you for once!"

Holding my hands up in surrender, I nod. "Care away, ma'am."

Once my hair looks completely different from its natural state, I pick up the earpiece from its case and start to put it in when I ask Esme, "Will you be listening to everything that happens at the newspaper office?"

"You're damn right I will," she responds. "Don't forget the glasses. They'll let me see through the camera installed in them."

Heaving a sigh, I carefully put on the glasses and then grin. "This feels very Clark Kent, you know?"

"As long as you don't go and fall for Lois Lane."

I don't answer to her teasing as my mind goes to the mysterious DNA girl. _What would it be like to work with her … to not have to hide in the shadows? To actually show her my face?_

"Virtuoso ..." Esme calls my name, a warning clear in her voice. "Don't even think of it."

"Think of what?"

"Our work isn't right for having a social life, kid," she says, there's sympathy in her tone. "Unless she'll go to the island you want to retire to, don't go and get your heart broken. It's not worth it."

Closing my eyes, I picture my angel from my dream and nod. "Yeah. I understand."

"You're a good guy, Edward," Esme tells me. "Go and find out who wanted to get you in trouble, Kid."

I offer her a mock salute and sling the bag containing my usual change of black clothes on my shoulder to pull off my nerdy look. "Aye aye, ma'am."

 _It's show time. Anthony Scott is about to make his appearance._

* * *

 _BPOV_

* * *

The morning after my report about Rosalie hit the world, the office of Inside Out keeps buzzing with the sound of ringing phones. Angela, our receptionist glowers at me as I walk in. "You owe us a lot, Bella," she says.

I cringe. "Is it that bad?"

She nods somberly. "It's the webstory with the highest number of hits till date. Ben's going crazy trying to keep the server from collapsing." Then she grins at me. "You won't believe how many hits _you_ got, girl. You're the superstar journalist who got the scoop first."

I pull a face. "Bet Leah doesn't feel that way."

"No, she doesn't ..." a voice says from behind me that turns out to be Leah. Our Editor stands there with her hands on either sides of her hips and continues, "I'm still wondering whether to punish you for going behind my back or applaud you for having the balls to do so."

"Well ..." I start. "You know … because of this the tabloid is getting good exposure ..."

She holds one finger up to my face. "Zip it, Barone. I've already got a job for you as a form of punishment." She moves a little to the left to reveal a man standing behind her. Bespectacled and with his autumn-colored hair brushed back, he looks like a male model … for the geek magazine, maybe, but definitely a model.

"This is Anthony Scott," Leah says, gesturing to him with her hand. "Anthony, this is Isabella Barone, sadly one of the brightest reporters we have." She pretends to ignore the 100-watt smile I offer her and continues, "Isabella will be in charge of training you. And you ..." she turns to me. "Train him well. He's our newest member."

I nod and hold a hand out to Anthony. "Nice to meet you."

He takes my hand and shakes it vigorously. "Nice to meet you too, ma'am."

I can't help but blush at the formal tone of his greeting. "Isabella or Bella is fine," I tell him. "May I call you Tony?"

He nods. "Yes, ma'am … I mean Ms. Bella." I watch as the tips of his ears reddens and I can't hold back my smile. "We're going to get along great," I tell him. "Welcome to Inside Out." As I'm leading him inside to introduce him to the rest of the staff, I can't help but hope that behind his recruitment is Leah's interest to expand our business beyond the realms of entertainment.

A girl can hope, right?

* * *

 **A/N: A shorter chapter this time, but I promise the next one will make up for it.**

 **Share your thoughts with me and leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **The chapter pic will be available on ScribblerAlliance as usual.**

 **See you on Wednesday.**

 **Love,**

 **Ann**


	10. Chapter-10: Fire

**A/N: I'm so sorry about missing Wednesday posting. Didn't have internet services all night. To make up for that, here's the longest chapter yet.**

* * *

 **Chapter-10: Fire**

* * *

" _Here you go, buddy." The little boy of eight looks up to find his cousin brother holding out a small bouquet of dandelions to him. "Give this to her when you see her."_

" _But Phil ..." he protests. "The baby is just a … baby. She won't know flowers."_

 _His cousin smiles. "I know, Carl. That's why you'll give them to Reneé."_

 _The boy points to the bigger bouquet of red roses held in his cousin's hands and asks, "Is that for Reneé too?"_

 _Phil nods, his smile fading. "It's from Charlie."_

" _But you bought it, not Charlie."_

 _Phil ruffles his hair with a sad curve on his lips and motions toward the hospital doors that has just opened up. As the brothers approach the door, Charlie Swan and Edward Masen, two of Phil's best friends come strolling out of there. Charlie's face lights up as soon as his eyes fall on them. "Phil, my man!" he comes forward to hug him and then takes the bouquet from Phil's hands. "You're a lifesaver."_

 _Then his eyes catch the little boy and he reaches to cup his chubby cheeks. "Wanna meet your new niece?" he whispers to the boy. When the boy eagerly nods, he leads him into the hospital room._

" _Carlisle!" A sweet feminine voice calls out as soon as he enters the room. He looks up to find Reneé sitting on the bed with a pink bundle held close to her chest. Reneé seems to spy the bouquet in his hands and exclaims, "Look, Mary! Your uncle Carlisle has brought flowers for you."_

 _Little Carlisle steps closer the the bundle so he can get a peek at it and a gasp leaves him. So pretty … and pink. Unbeknownst to him, he reaches out to touch one of the baby's fingers. When a tiny hand wraps around his finger in a tiny fist, his shock turns into awe._

" _Isn't she beautiful?" Reneé asks in a whispered voice. All Carlisle manages to do is nod._

 _The magic of the moment is broken when Charlie steps forward with the rose bouquet and places it on the bed next to Reneé. "A token of love for my bride for giving me the most priceless present of all."_

 _Reneé giggles, shaking her head at her husband. Her flushed cheeks tell the story of how pleased she is. "Although Phil got this for you, I'll thank you, Mr. Swan," she says with a smirk. "Since you endured all my bone-crushing squeezing of your hand during childbirth without a protest."_

" _Anything for my girls," Charlie says, hugging his wife and child together, making Carlisle awkwardly step away._

 _Apparently, Reneé wasn't having any of that. She reaches out to pull Carlisle into the hug and when Charlie wraps an arm around Carlisle's shoulders, the boy feels like he's a part of their family now._

" _Phil?" Reneé calls out when their moment is over. "What are you doing over there? Come here and greet our little Mary Swan."_

 _As Phil walks forward to join the group, Edward says from behind them all, "Carlisle has double responsibility now."_

 _When Carlisle turns around with a puzzled look on his face, Edward taps the tip of his nose. "You're Uncle Carlisle to both Ed and Mary now. You have to protect them from the world."_

 _The boy's eyes widen at the thought of taking care of two persons, but before he can say anything, Reneé says proudly, "Carlisle is going to be the best uncle to our children. I'm sure of it. Won't you, Carlisle?"_

 _The look of expectation on her face makes him nod._ Yes, he'll protect them with everything he has. He'll be the best uncle ever!

Beep … Beep … BEEP!

The harsh sound of his alarm clock wakes Carlisle up from the recurring dream that haunts his every unconscious moment.

Like always, he closes his eyes and imagines Mary's sweet face. "I'm so sorry, Mary," he whispers into the empty room. "I'm sorry I let you down."

Just then his phone starts to ring, bring him out of his stupor. One look at the caller id makes him regain his composure. _Just a little more, Mary, and then Uncle Carlisle will protect you,_ he thinks as he pick up the call.

* * *

 _EPOV_

* * *

My first day working undercover as Anthony Scott couldn't be further from what I expected it to be. Instead of being shunted because of the shy and timorous newbie I was trying to portray myself as, Isabella allows me to trail after her as she rushes about the office like a spitfire. And I cannot help but feel more and more interested toward her despite Esme's warning from the morning.

"Tony!" Isabella, or Bella as she asked me to address her as, calls my attention to herself.

"Me?" I ask, widening my eyes to magnify the effect of my clueless act.

She rolls her eyes. "No, I was calling for Tony Blair actually." I cannot help but lift the corners of my mouth. She nods appreciatively. "That's better. Now what are your plans for lunch?"

"Lunch?" I repeat confusedly.

Before I can say anything more, she lifts her hands in the universal signal for surrender and blurts out, "I'm not asking you out on a date. God no!"

 _God no!?_ I feel a little hurt by her way of saying that. _Did she have someone else?_

She of course reads into my silence and adds quickly, "Not that you're not good looking or anything … it's the opposite actually. You're very handsome. It's just … Um ..." she looks panicked and then slaps a hand over her mouth. "I should stop speaking," she mumbles from behind her hand.

When I continue to stare at her, wondering how the hell did we get here, she removes her hand from her mouth and says, "I was just offering to buy you lunch … as your supervisor or whatever."

I decide to put her out of her misery and offer her a shy smile. "That would be great, Bella."

She sighs in relief and suddenly, all awkwardness is gone and she's grabbing my hand to lead me out of the office.

I know I shouldn't, but I realize that I'm enjoying this new job way too much.

* * *

My impression of the perks of my new job evaporates into thin air when Bella takes me to lunch … at her father's café.

"This here is my dad's café," she says, spreading her arms out. "You're welcome to come over at any time."

"No, no, he is not," a stoic middle-aged man replies from behind her. The sight of his eyes narrowing at me, makes me feel flustered. I'm not used to having people stare at me since I spend most of my time working in the shadow. "Who are you, young man? And what are you doing with our Bells?" he asks me, walking past Bella and getting into my face.

"Eriiiiic," Bella says, trying in vain to pull the man back. "Eric, cut it out. This is Tony."

"Tony who?" another voice which I recognize as Eleazar Barone's calls out from the direction of the staircase that connects the café to their home.

"Tony Scott," Bella answers in an exasperated tone. She motions at me and says, "Tony joined Inside Out today, as a junior reporter."

"Reporter and this matchstick?" The man name Eric snorts. "The boy's hardly got muscles on his bones, Bells."

Bella glowers at him. "Last time I checked, Eric, you don't have to have muscles on your bones to be a reporter, only need muscles on your brain."

Eric opens his mouth, but his retort dies down when Mr. Barone speaks. "Enough! Anthony, may I see you in my office?"

"But Dad," Bella protests. "We have to get back to work soon."

"We won't be a minute, honey," he says sweetly before turning his gaze onto me. "Come. Eric, you too."

* * *

I watch like a deer caught in headlights as Eleazar Barone paces the room like an agitated lion. I wait for him to open his mouth and breath fire for he obviously seems angry at my association with his daughter.

"Hmph," he huffs before coming to stand before me. I have to tilt my head up to get a good look at his face thanks to the low chairs in his office. "So you're her partner now?" he asks at last.

"P-partner?" I repeat, keeping up with my act. "No, no, Sir, you're mistaken. Ms. Barone is my mentor. She's training me."

"Good," Eric says from somewhere to my left. "Ms. Barone, you say? Eleazar, the kid's got manners, I gotta give him that."

"Sush, Eric," Eleazar says, his eyes focused on me. "So, boy," he starts, "What I'm asking is will you be spending a lot of time with my daughter?"

"Yes," I say before I catch the look of shock on Eric's face and quickly change my answer. "Not really."

"I'm guessing yes is the right answer," Eleazar tells me knowingly. "Now then, if you'll promise me a few things, we'll get along just fine."

"Of course, Sir."

"First, you'll make sure Bella doesn't take any unnecessary risks. My daughter is a magnet for troubles, you can say. And I want you to promise me that you'll protect her from herself."

I nod. "I will, Sir."

"Next, you'll always treat her with respect."

I nod again.

"Finally, you'll not try to sweet talk your way into her heart because I want a strong man for my daughter."

I blink. _Why do they think I'm such a weakling?_ I wonder before I realize that I've purposefully chosen loose-fitting wardrobe to ensure my profile doesn't match that of Virtuoso's.

I gulp and then nod. "Sir, yes, Sir."

He nods back. "As long as we understand each other, nice to meet you, boy. I'm Eleazar Barone." He points to Eric and continues, "That's Eric Yorkie, former pick-pocket whom I graciously saved from his previous livelihood and gave the job of a waiter in my café."

"I'm Anthony Scott, Sir," I introduce myself, pretending to be rightfully perplexed by Eric's shady past. "Nice to meet you too."

By the time I get back down to find Bella sitting at a table, I find out that despite his attempt at scaring me, I'm glad that Bella has Eleazar Barone as her father because the man truly loves his daughter.

* * *

 **A/N: Share your thoughts with me and leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Take care.**

 **Ann**


	11. Chapter-11: Rehab

**A/N: A quick note. I have an English Language proficiency test on next Saturday. So till then, I'll be locking myself out of my thinking chamber to study. So next update will be on Monday, May 1. Hope to see you then.**

 **Another long chapter for you. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter-11: Rehab**

* * *

 _EPOV_

* * *

It happens when I'm exiting the office of Inside Out at the end of the day. Maybe I'm just that attuned to the shadows, or maybe it's a stroke of luck, but the moment I step outside, my eyes spy a black mercedes parked a few feet away from the building in a seemingly inconspicuous manner. One closer look at the man sitting inside, and I recognize who it is. It's easier to pick out Carlisle Cullen's profile thanks to all the photographs of him available on the internet.

"Ms. Bella," I say, touching the elbow of the girl standing next to me.

"Just Bella, please, Tony," she tells me in exasperation.

I offer a mortified smile and ask, "May I walk you home?"

She laughs, the sound of her tinkling laughter making my heart do a little somersault in my chest. "Tony, I'm a big girl," she says once she quietens. "I can take the subway myself."

"But I ..."

She ruffles my hair sweetly and then walks away, waving her hand at me. "See you tomorrow, Tony!"

I cannot help but sigh. _DNAgirl is just a bait_ , I realize as Cullen's car comes to life immediately after her departure. _What remains to be seen is whether the fish circling around is the one who's trying to frame me for murder, or if there's a bigger fish out there._

* * *

I follow Cullen through the shadows, always watching him while staying out of sight. When he turns to a driveway that's miles away from his listed address, I know something is up. Briefly, I wonder whether he's meeting the bigger fish here. Reaching up, I switch off the tracker Esme has on me in case of emergencies because I know she'll freak out if she finds out where I am, and then I walk the way Cullen has gone.

Hidden behind the bushes, I watch Cullen park his vehicle and walk into the manor-like house . I don't have to wait for long to find out who he's there to meet. From the light spilling out of one of the downstair windows, I watch him hug a woman sitting on a bed. For a moment, I wonder if he's got a wife hidden from the world or something, but when I zoom in with my binoculars, I find that the woman definitely looks older than him. I watch as he helps her sit in a wheelchair and then wheels her out of the room, switching off the lights as he leaves.

I don't know what makes me do it, but before my brain can tell me to get out of there, I'm sneaking around the perimeter of the house and then climbing through the window I saw Cullen through. "Esme's gonna freak out, Ed," I murmur to myself as I shine my flashlight around the room, trying to get a clue as to who the woman might be. That's when two photos standing on the bedside table catch my eyes.

First photo is of the woman I just saw in this room with Phil Dwyer, who according to wikipedia is a well-connected politician and also, Carlisle Cullen's cousin. The way Dwyer has his arms wrapped around the woman suggests that they share a personal relationship. _Maybe she's his wife?_ I wonder.

I don't get to ponder on the first photo for long because when my eyes fall on the second photograph, I feel my throat dry up. It's a photograph of five people—four men and one woman in the middle. The woman is obviously the lady in wheelchair and the man on her left side looks like a younger version of Phil Dwyer. There's a man I've never seen on her right, hugging her close. It's the men on far sides that make me stop breathing. On the far right, next to Dwyer is Riley Biers, my mentor and on the far left, next to the unknown man … is my father.

Silently, I take the photograph out of the photo frame and slip it into my pocket. I know there's much more to find out.

* * *

"Have you become an adrenaline junkie? Is that it? Is that why you turned off your tracker so that you can get off of the adrenaline rush of getting caught without me covering your ass?" I hold the earpiece away from my head while Esme screams her lungs off at me.

When the sound of screaming quietens, I bring it back to my ear. "Hi, Es."

"Don't you _Hi, Es,_ me, young man! You're in big big trouble," she threatens but then asks, "Are you okay? Your heart rate is faster than usual."

I nod even though I'm sure she can't see me now because I'm standing in the middle of the road. "I wanna go see my mom tomorrow."

She's silent after my admission. Then she says, "You sure you can handle it? She has another family now."

"Yeah, I know," I say before admitting quietly, "I've tracked her down and watched her with her other son from afar."

Esme sighs. "Whatever you feel is right, buddy," she tells me. "Just don't give me a heart attack like you did today."

"I won't," I promise as I put my car in drive and head toward my loft.

* * *

That night, I sleep fitfully. The old nightmares coming back to haunt me in my sleep. I dream about the night my four-year-old-self went to bed and then woke up the next morning to find my grandmother crying over my mother's empty bed. I relive the moment Grammy hugged me and told me that it's because I looked too much like my dad that mom had to get away from me all the while reassuring me that I was loved.

When the first rays of sunlight hit my window, I throw the covers from my bed and sit up. It's time I got some answers.

Finding the school where my stepbrother studies is a piece of cake for Esme. By the time I get dressed for the day, she even has the time when mom is going to drop her son off at school noted down for me.

When I get to the school, I don't locate my mother immediately, but her son is another matter. With hair the same shade of red as her, my stepbrother looks the spitting image of my mother. It's only when I find him that my eyes fall on the woman helping him put on his backpack. Mom. She doesn't notice me of course. She's busy brushing her son's hair with her fingers and hugging him one last time before the boy rushes off to school and away from her clutches.

Pulling out my cell phone from my pocket, I dial the number Esme had gotten for me. I watch as she fishes around her purse when the phone starts ringing and then puts the phone to her ear. "Hello?" she answers in her sweet voice.

"Mom, it's me," I say quietly. "Edward Masen Jr." It feels awkward to have to introduce myself by my full name to my own mother but it's better than to have her question who I was.

Even from across the street I see her face pale at the sound of my name and her hands start to shake. "E-edward? My Edward?" she asks in a broken whisper.

"Yes," I answer. "Look across the street, Mom." I hold a hand up for her to see. The moment her eyes find me, tears start rolling down her cheeks and she's running across the street to me. And then she's right there with me, hugging me tight and sobbing hard, hiding her face in my chest. "Shh, Mom," I say as I rub her back, glad that she remembers me.

I must have said the words out loud because she looks up and cups my chin in her hand in a way only mothers can and then offers me a watery smile. "Of course I remember you," she tells me. "How could I forget my own son? I'd have come to find you, but you told me not to go looking for you, remember?"

I nod, remembering the day I came to tell her that I had graduated from college … six years ago. "I'm sorry, it took so long for me to come," I say.

She shakes her head and hugs me again. "I'm just glad you're okay." She lifts her head and then smiles. "My baby boy has grown up so much."

I smile back at her and ask, "Do you have time for a cup of coffee?"

She hooks her arm around mine and nods. "For my son, always."

* * *

We both play catch up while sipping on our coffees for a few minutes. Mom asks me about what I do, I answer that I can't tell her. She doesn't pry, maybe because she still feels guilty for leaving me the way she did. I ask her about her other son and husband. She answers that it's no picnic living with a pre-teen and a drunkard husband, but that's life. I want to tell her that she should leave her drunkard husband to a rehab and come live with me, but I don't. _What's the point, anyway?_

Once there's a lull in our conversation, she looks at me and smiles sadly. "You look even more like your dad now that you've grown up," she says softly.

That reminds me the reason behind this little family reunion. I reach into my wallet and bring out the folded photograph I took from the house I later found out belongs to Phil Dwyer and put it between us. "Mom, I found this," I start. "Can you tell me anything about this?"

She gasps and then a look of melancholy crosses her face as she runs a finger over my father's image. "I can't believe you still have this," she says. "It was one of your dad's most favorite photos in our house."

I don't have the heart to tell her that it's not dad's copy but rather a stolen property of a woman. So I don't.

"Do you know who these people are with dad?" I ask instead.

She nods. "Yes, they're his college friends." She taps the picture of the man next to dad and says, "This is Charlie Swan, your dad's best friend. And the woman next to him is Reneé, his wife." She turns to the other men on the picture and frowns. "The man next to Reneé was another of their friends, Phil, I think his name was, and the last man is called Riley Biers, another of their friends."

"Did you know them well?" I ask, wondering what their connection with Bella must be. _Was she related to one of them? Is this why Carlisle hired me to collect her DNA?_ Myriad of questions swarm in my head as I try to figure it all out.

Mom shakes her head. "Not really, we met at some house parties here and there, but that's it. I remember that Charlie used to work with your dad though."

I feel my eyebrows pull together. "Didn't dad use to work for a news station?"

"Yes, Charlie used to do the reports while your dad manned the camera."

Before I can ask her anything else, my phone beeps, letting me know that I was due to my new work soon. "Mom," I say, standing up and placing a few dollar bills on the table. "I have to go. Thank you for meeting with me."

Mom follows my suit and pulls me into a hug. "Son," she says in a whispered tone. "I know I ran out on you when you most needed me, but I want us to be a family now. Please don't make me be a stranger."

"We'll see each other again," I promise as I hug her back, hoping that I can forgive her enough to tell her that I love her one day.

* * *

 _Meanwhile … somewhere in Seattle …_

* * *

The beeping noise of her microwave almost drowns out the alarm that rings throughout her lair, signalling an outgoing email from the Seattle Police Department with the keywords Virtuoso and David Simmons in it.

Dropping her plate of leftover tuna casserole, Esme Platt runs over to her computer connected to multiple monitors, glad that she had the foresight of hacking into the SPD's system. A few strokes of keys and she finds out the outgoing email contains a video clip.

She swallows as she clicks the play button and then closes her eyes tightly. Opening her eyes in small slits, she watches the video play out. It's a video captured on someone's phone. The video shows David Simmons standing inside the subway train with his head bowed low. The subway doors open all on a sudden and a man clad in black hoodie and a black mask claps on his shoulder, signalling him to jump. Simmons jumps and then the masked man turns back to look around at the other passengers before jumping off the train. Even the crappy quality of the video doesn't fail catch a clear image of the masked man's eyes and forehead and Esme feels her legs start to shake.

"Vir-virtuoso!" she gasps. That's when she notices the name of the recipient of the email and curses out loud. It reads: jwhitlock . She closes her eyes and lets her head fall to her hands because she knows. She knows that if there's one man sharp enough to find out who Virtuoso is, it's FBI Special Agent, Jasper Whitlock.

* * *

 **A/N: So … thoughts?**

 **Share them with me and leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Check out the chapter pic on ScribblerAlliance blog.**

 **Love,**

 **Ann**


	12. Chapter-12: My BFF

**A/N: So you better fasten your seatbelts, guys. It's going to be a bumpy ride. ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter-12: My BFF**

* * *

 _BPOV_

* * *

After a gruesome day of hunting down any and all information I could find on Laurent and passing on my vast knowledge of tailing people to my sidekick, aka, Anthony, I finally get to step out of the office.

"Ahh!" I spread my arms and take in a deep breath. Then I turn my head to look at Anthony. "Is the life of a journalist all you dreamt it to be, Tony?"

He squints at the sky, as if waiting for the heavens to open up and swallow him and sighs. "Not really. But it's fun working with you, Ms. Bella."

I roll my eyes as I try to correct him for the umpteenth time. "Only Bella, please. But don't start thinking that you're my BFF, mister. I'm your supervisor and you're my junior, understood?"

He looks at me and nods, looking like he's holding back a smile. "Yes, Ms. Bella."

I can't help but smile at his too innocent-for-his-own-good-face and start walking toward the subway station. He follows me dutifully because his car is parked at a lot somewhere near the station. I appreciate the company even if I don't tell him that.

It happens when we enter a dark alley to take a shortcut.

A car drives up to block our way. I frown and turn to find Anthony only to see that a group of four men standing behind him, surrounding us both. I turn around and bravely take a step toward the car. The car doors open then, revealing four more men, all clad in black.

"Excuse me," I address the man right in front of me. Behind me I feel Anthony grip my hand tightly. _The poor guy must be scared out of his wits._ I squeeze his hand and say loudly, "If you could move your car a little, my friend and I could get out of your way."

The men don't respond as they take a few steps to form a tight knot around us. "Look here, mister," I start, opting for playing my journalist card. "I'm a journalist. We both are. So if you don't want your faces plastered on the evening news, please move out of our way."

The guy right in front of me laughs then; the look on his eyes challenging as he tilts his head at me. "Isabella Barone?"

I narrow my eyes at him. "Who's asking?"

He pretends to not have heard me and addresses the men behind us. "Leave the lackey and take her with us."

Anthony seems to have woken from his daze as he starts shoving the men away from us. "W-who t-t-the hell are you?" he stutters and my heart aches for him.

Giving his hand another quick squeeze, I take a step back to him and look right at the man in the front who seems to be the leader. "I'm not going anywhere," I tell him.

"But our boss wants to meet you," he says.

"Too bad he can't come to the office to meet me," I reply sarcastically. "I'm sure he has my office address."

"Ms. Bella," Anthony whispers in warning as the leader grabs my other hand. I try to wrench my hand out of his grip, but he's too strong for me.

Before I know what's happening, the rest of his guys come forward and one of them takes Anthony in a chokehold. "B-Bellaaa" Anthony whimpers. One of the guys land a punch to his gut, making him cough hard.

"Wait!" I cry out. "Don't hurt him. Please!" I look beseechingly to the leader. "Please, make them stop. He's innocent. Let him go please."

"You'll go with us then?" he asks, his eyes contemplative.

I nod, a sob escaping me. "Yes, yes, I'll go. Just don't hurt him."

He signals his goons to leave Anthony and they still aim a few kicks at him, making him crumble into a ball as he sobs. "Tony," I call his name. "Tony, it's okay. Tony, are you hurt?"

He doesn't answer me as he continues to sob in pain. All I manage is a pitiful glance at him when the men pull me into the car with them. We drive away from the alley and the last thing I see before they put a blindfold on my eyes is Anthony … alone and in pain.

* * *

 _EPOV_

* * *

I wait till the car has left before sitting up and putting on my earpiece. "Es?" I ask.

"What happened, kid?"

I spit out a mouthful of blood. "You tell me. They've got Bella."

Esme lets slip an uncharacteristic curse word and is silent for a whole second before she starts speed-talking. "Okay. So I picked up their license plate number thanks to my foresight of the camera in your glasses … and I've tracked them through traffic cameras. They're headed east from where you are."

I start running toward the direction she indicated while still talking to her. "Who were they? Can you find out?"

"Already have," she answers. "The leader is actually one of Volturi's top henchmen."

"Volturi?" I ask, shocked.

"Turn left here," she directs me. "They've stopped at a red light." Then she adds, "I don't know why or who got the Volturi involved in this. They're ruthless, Virtuoso … way more than us."

I nod, pushing myself to run faster. "I know. I think it's about the article she wrote."

"Virtuoso," Esme says all of a sudden, her voice filled with warning. "Be careful. The car has turned toward the deserted industrial area. You're almost there."

 _Why are they taking her there?_ I feel a chill run through my spine as I worry, wondering whether I should have gone to get my car before chasing them.

As if she can hear my thoughts, Esme tells me, "You did the right thing, Virtuoso. If you had taken your car, they'd have found out about you coming to get her. This way, you'll have the element of surprise."

"Yeah," I respond absently as I tiptoe around the perimeter of the abandoned building they've taken her into. I see their cars lying there - deserted. Sticking to the shadows, I quickly exchange my work clothes for my dark clothes to disguise myself and then put on my mask, pushing my work clothes back into the backpack Esme had begged me to carry when I decided to work with Isabella.

Once I'm done, I slip into the building, climbing the stairs three at a time to reach Isabella. It's the sound of raised voices coming from an open space in the second floor that reels me in. I hide just out of sight and watch as the ring leader circles around a figure crouched on the ground. _Bella!_

"Where is she?" the leader asks.

"I don't know who you're talking about," Isabella says in a pseudo-calm voice. The slight tremor in her voice tells me how scared she must be.

"Don't lie to me," he growls. "Actress named R, you said in your article. Where's that slut?"

"Do I look like a pimp to you?" Isabella asks bravely and I can't help but smile a little at her words. _My brave girl._ "Besides," she says, "There are probably at least a hundred actresses with names starting with R. Reese Witherspoon? Rachel McAdams? How am I to know who you're talking about?"

"I'm talking about Rosalie Hale, you bitch!" he screams, getting into her face and slapping her.

White hot anger burns through me the moment I hear her cry out in pain. Forgetting any plans about being stealthy, I barge into the room, heading right for the asshole who dared to raise his hand on her. "Didn't you mother tell you to never hit a woman?" I ask as I land a punch square to his jaw.

"Oooff!" he howls in pain as he's taken by surprise with my sudden appearance. It takes a moment for his men to realize what had happened and then they're all upon me.

"Run!" I shout in the general direction of Isabella while kicking and punching anything and anyone I can get my hands on. The next few moments are a blur of limbs as I fight with her captors to protect Isabella. When I stop to take a breath, I see with satisfaction that all the bad guys are groaning and moaning in pain thanks to my fighting skills.

The moment my eyes fall on her though, everyone else evaporates. There, kneeling just out of the door from the room we're in, is Isabella; her hand clutching at her heart. I run to her, hoping like hell that she's alright.

When I reach her, she looks up at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and fear.

I crouch down next to her and ask in a deeper voice, "Are you hurt?"

She shakes her head, breathing hard. First, I wonder if she's recognized me from the day I collected her DNA and is afraid. I hold my hands up and say, "I'll not harm you."

She shakes her head again, her hands motioning to where the scoundrels must've dropped her bag.

"Your bag?" I ask to clarify.

She nods vigorously, closing her eyes as if in pain.

I bring the bag to her and unzip it for her. When I see her reach for a blue inhaler, it all clicks. Taking the machine from her hands, I shake it and then hold it to her mouth. "How many puffs?"

"T-tttwo" she mumbles before opening her mouth.

I follow her direction and wait till her breathing goes down to normal. "Better?" I ask.

"Yes."

I lift her up in my arms and then walk down the stairs, taking her far away from the villainous creatures that wanted to hurt her.

Esme, who had been silent throughout the fight finally speaks into the earpiece I'm wearing. "Virtuoso, I've called the police. They're reaching soon." Even as she speaks, I can hear sirens from afar.

Isabella looks relieved when she hears the sirens too.

I put her down on her feet and say, "You'll be safe now." Then, before she can speak another word, I run out of there and into the darkness where I belong.

* * *

 _BPOV_

* * *

Dazedly, I watch him run away into the night. I let out a sigh and then start walking toward the direction the sirens are coming from.

By the time I bring the cops back to the place, it's empty. The police keep asking me whether I was kidnapped or not because apparently, someone informed them of my abduction. _Must be Tony!_ I realize, feeling thankful that he had the presence of mind to do so.

Not wanting to get into any legal matters without my dad present there, I neither accept or deny any such claims. Instead, I request them to drop me home, hoping and praying that Anthony is okay.

* * *

 **A/N: Share your thoughts with me and leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Chapter pic is on the ScribblerAlliance blog.**

 **See you on Wednesday.**

 **Love,**

 **Ann**


	13. Chapter-13: Unwritten

**A/N: Hi! It's been so long since I updated. I didn't want to risk you guys missing out on this chapter due to the notification issue on ffn. So I'm finally going to post. Hope you enjoy it.**

 **Also, this chapter has description of seizure in it. So I'd love to dedicate this one to one of the persons closest to my heart who suffers from this ailment. You know who you are and how much I love you, right? ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter-13: Unwritten**

* * *

Carlisle watches in silence as she methodically puts the leftover food in separate tupperwares. She must feel his gaze on her because she lifts her head and smiles embarrassedly at him. "All these leftovers are your brother's fault, you know? If he hadn't missed dinner tonight then there wouldn't be so much left."

Unbeknownst to him, the words escape him. "You always cook for one more person though."

Her hands still for a moment, and then she looks away from him. "Let's pretend you didn't notice."

Carlisle reaches out to place a hand over hers and decides to break the unwritten rule Phil has in the house. "What do you think she would be like? If she was alive?" he asks, wanting to tell her the truth. "What profession would she have picked for herself?"

Reneé closes her eyes, and he feels her hand start to tremble underneath his. "She would've been twenty six this year," she tells him in a shaky voice. "She would've been free to choose her career."

"Hypothetically speaking," Carlisle presses on. "Don't you think she'd want to become a journalist like you and Charlie?"

Reneé pulls her hand out of his in a sudden motion. "I don't know, Carlisle," she says in a strange voice. "I don't know what my Mary would've chosen as her career if she was alive. I don't know how she'd have looked if she was alive. I don't know anything. All I know is that she's in heaven with her father."

"What if she survived? What if she ..."

Carlisle's words are cut off when she turns around sharply and pierces him with her gaze. "My daughter is not alive. If she was, I would've felt it. I would've gone to her. I wouldn't be the monster who abandoned her daughter. I ..." she stops to take a shuddering breath as her back straightens. Her hands clench around the handrests of her wheelchair as she struggles to control herself.

The moment her eyes grow cloudy Carlisle knows what's coming. "Reneé!" he cries out, grabbing a spoon from the kitchen counter and slipping it between her clenched teeth to prevent her from biting her tongue. "I'm sorry, Reneé. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me," he begs as the woman he cared for as a sister convulses vigorously, her mouth frothing slightly. "Reneé, please ... no! RENEÉ!"

At the sound of his screams the housekeeper runs in. One look at the scene in the kitchen and she joins Carlisle's screams, calling for her mistress to be alright.

Phil Dwyer rushes into the kitchen when he hears the sound of his cousin's cries the moment he gets home. When he gets to them, his eyes fall on his wife and he feels his heart drop. "Ren!" he calls out and runs to scoop her up in his arms. Without sparing a second glance at their company, he carries her to her bedroom and places her in her bed all the while whispering reassuringly in her ears.

* * *

Carlisle waits while the doctor looks at Reneé and only when he's sure that she's going to be alright, he starts to walk out of the room. Phil, however, grabs his hand to stop him. "May I have a word?" he asks Carlisle.

When he nods, Phil leads him to his study. Once they're behind closed doors, Phil allows his anger to flow. "What the fuck did you do?" he asks.

Carlisle blinks. "I ... I didn't ..."

"Save your breath," his cousin spits at him. "She has been fine for weeks, Carl. WEEKS. Not a single seizure. And then you decide to show up for dinner and now she's like this. So let me ask you again, what the fuck did you do?"

"She invited me to dinner," Carlisle points out.

"Carl!" Phil shouts, getting into his face. "I swear to God, Kid, if I could raise you like my own, I can chop you into little pieces if you hurt my Reneé."

"Fine," Carlisle bursts out then. "We talked about Mary."

"Mary!" Phil takes a few staggering steps away from him, making Carlisle nod.

"Yes, _Brother_ ," he says, his eyes flashing angrily at his cousin. "You were the one who found and buried her body, weren't you? Do you think if we dug up the grave it'll be as empty as I expect it to be?"

Phils eyes widen. "I ..."

"Don't waste your breath, Phil," Carlisle returns his own words to him. "I know you faked her death. I knew you loved your friend's wife, but to fake her daughter's death right after she'd lost her husband? What was that for? Just so you could get her?" As he utters the words he'd kept hidden deep in his heart, Carlisle feels something for his cousin brother that he never had before ... hatred.

Phil stumbles back to fall into an armchair and then looks up at his brother. "How long have you known?"

"Long enough."

"How?"

Carlisle barks a mirthless laugh. "I grew up with you, Phil," he says. "I know exactly how you look when you lie. Your eyes blink rapidly. I was there when you informed Reneé of Mary's death. I knew that you were lying. Besides, if you had buried her, why didn't you take me to the burial? To spare my teen heart of the pain of watching my niece's dead body? I don't believe that."

"Then why haven't you said anything till now?"

"I didn't have proof ... till now."

Phil's mouth falls open. "You've found her?"

Carlisle shrugs, deciding he didn't deserve to know that. Instead he says, "You've stooped so low in my eyes, Phil. I pity you." He starts to walk to the door to exit the room, not wanting to breathe the same air as his cousin.

When his hand wraps around the doorknob, Phil asks, "Why do you care anyway? It's not like she's your niece by birth or anything."

Carlisle turns his head to look at him. "Unlike you, Phil," he tells him. "I cherish the relationships I had with your friends. She called me Uncle since the moment she could speak so no matter what you say, I'm her uncle."

With that, he leaves, slamming the door shut behind him.

* * *

 **A/N: So … does that answer a few of your questions?**

 **It's a mystery, guys. I've got lot more to weave for you before we untangle it all. So sit tight.**

 **Share your thoughts with me and leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Check out the chapter pic on ScribblerAlliance.**

 **See you on Monday.**

 **Love,**

 **Ann**


	14. Chapter-14: The Law

**A/N: So ready for more? Read on!**

* * *

 **Chapter-14: The Law**

* * *

 _EPOV_

* * *

"I hope you know how foolish that was. You could've been made! You're lucky they didn't get a look at your face."

I don't answer to her; instead, I sit in my black leather couch with my head clutched in my hands. I feel a shudder roll down my body as I imagine what would've happened if I hadn't gotten to her on time.

"Edward!" Esme calls out, sounding irritated. "Are you even listening to me? Say something!"

Unable to take her nagging anymore, I burst out. "What do you want me to say, Esme? That I'm sorry for jeopardizing my identity? That I shouldn't have gone after her and should have called 911 and be done with it? With _her_? I'm sorry, Esme, but I'm _not_ sorry. "

"But the Volturi Guards know your mask as Virtuoso's. Don't you think they recognized who the masked stranger was who saved Bella Barone?"

I yank at a handful of my hair, the burning of my scalp numbing my senses. "So what if they do? That's more reason for them to leave her alone."

"Really? Are you that dumb, Kid? Don't you know how ruthless they are? They'll be circling around Isabella now more than ever like a wake of vultures."

I frown. "So you're saying I've endangered her by saving her?"

"No, you endangered her by exposing your weak spot to your enemies."

"Weak spot?" I repeat. _Is that what she is? My weakness?_

Esme chuckles. "Oh my dear boy! You really don't know, do you?"

"Know what?" I ask dumbly.

"I sure hope she's coming to that island with you because you're falling, Ed … fast."

 _Falling? For Isabella? Shit! What do I do?_

After hanging up with Esme, I contemplate to sift through my feelings. It's true that before, every person I met was just that … a person … a mere human being … nothing special. And then, I met her.

Isabella Barone is different … unique. As if in a group of tigers, she's a lioness. She's beautiful, I know believe me, I'm not blind to it. But it's more than her beauty that calls to me. It's just … _her_. _She_ is what calls out to my heart.

Most people who see her might think she's brave in a clueless way … like she doesn't realize what she's getting herself into. But I've _seen_ her. First time was when she followed me to get her bag back and then tonight. Every time, she knew it was scary dangerous, but even then, her steps never faltered to face it head-on. _She's brave like a warrior,_ I realize. And that's when I decide that maybe falling for my personal Xena wouldn't be the end of the world.

* * *

 _BPOV_

* * *

 _Should I tell Dad?_

 _He'll make a huge fuss._

 _I'm not even harmed … not really._

 _I know that he'll want to bring my abductors to the law, but if what I'm guessing is true then they weren sent by Jacob Black to find Rose. That means they have high connections. Should I even drag my dad into all this?_

My train of thought is broken when Rosalie rushes into my room and runs to the window. I reach out just in time and yank her back before whispering severely, "Are you out of your mind? Don't you know Jake Black has his men sniffing around for you? Why are you going to the window?"

Her face pales at the mention of the pig that is Black, and she carefully steps away from the window before mumbling, "It's just ... that man in outside."

"What man?" I ask.

"The man you brought home."

Mystified, I walk out of my room and down the stairs to find exactly who she's referring to. By the time I reach the porch leading to dad's café, I find dad and Eric crowding over a slumbering figure on the bench outside.

"Do you think he's alive?" I hear Eric ask my dad with a contemplative expression on his face.

Dad leans down and takes a closer look at their object of investigation, then he nods. "He's breathing. Maybe he's just asleep?"

I decide to intervene and take a few tentative steps out of the door and that's when I see it. A head full of penny colored hair. _Tony!_

"TONY!" I cry out and rush up to him, pushing through my dad and Eric. "Tony?" I call him again, softer this time.

He stirs a little.

"Anthony?" I call again.

He blinks open his eyes, they widen, and then he jumps up into a sitting position on the bench. "Ms. Bella!"

I reach out to place a hand on his shoulder to stabilize him. "How did you get here?"

"After I ran away, I didn't know how to help you so I came here."

"Then why didn't you come inside?"

He looks sheepish as he answers, "I didn't know how to face your father. I was supposed to protect you and I didn't. Instead, I ran away like a coward. I'm so sorry."

"No, Tony, it's okay ..."

" _Help_ you?"

I close my eyes and mutter a curse under my breath. Here goes nothing. "Dad ..."

Dad holds a hand up to silence me. "What happened?" he asks Anthony.

Anthony blinks, apparently realizing that I hadn't shared the events of the night before with my dad. "It's nothing really … just ..."

"What happened to my daughter, Boy?" Dad's voice shakes a little with anger as he glowers at me and then back at Tony. "Tell me!"

I decide to step in before he makes poor Tony wet himself and say, "Jacob Black sent goons after me to try and find Rose's location." When dad's eyes widen, I hasten to add, "Nothing happened though. I didn't tell them anything and I was saved by the cops thanks to Tony here who had the presence of mind to call for them."

For a moment, I think Dad is going to shout at the two of us for being so careless, but then the strangest of things happen. Instead of screaming his head off, he pulls us both … yes, _both_ … into a fierce hug.

"Si-r ..." Tony's words are cut off as dad pulls away from us and then looks sternly at both of us. "I hope you know how lucky you were."

Hanging our heads, we nod simultaneously.

"Carmen!" he calls for my mom and when mom comes down the stairs, he points to us. "Your daughter has found a sidekick," he says accusingly.

Mom smiles encouragingly at Tony. "Good for her."

"No!" he protests. "Now they're both running into strange people and getting kidnapped."

Mom's mouth falls open as she whirls around to look at me questioningly. "You were kidnapped?"

I shake my head vehemently. "Not really."

Tony clears his throat. "Technically, Ms. Bella ..." I step on his toes to shut him up and exclaim loudly, "Have you noticed the time? We need to get going, Tony."

"Not so fast, young lady," dad says, holding a hand out to stop me. "What's the law in Barone House?"

"Never skip a meal."

He nods, steering me upstairs to the family dining area. "Up you go."

"Um …" Tony starts, clearing his throat again. "I guess I'll see you at work then, Ms. Bella."

This time, dad grabs his arm to stop him. "Where do you think you're going, young man?"

"Wo-work?" His answer comes out sounding more like a question.

"Breakfast first," dad decrees, pushing him along with me. I can't help but laugh at the thunderstruck expression on Tony's face. _Poor guy!_

* * *

 **A/N: So … thoughts?**

 **Share them with me and leave a review.**

 **A special thanks to Tarbecca for letting me know that Virtuoso has been voted as one of the** **Top Favorite Fic Dive Stories for March/April at ADF** **. It's a huge honor to be noted for this little story of mine. :)**

 **As always, the chapter pic will be available on ScribblerAlliance for you.**

 **See you on Friday.**

 **Love,**

 **Ann**


	15. Chapter-15: Calm

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm excited to tell you that I've started working on a new research paper to publish. Sadly, that also means that my writing time will be cut short because of it. So I have to reduce the posting to twice a week from thrice a week. New posting schedule will be Fridays and Tuesdays.**

 **Now, get reading!**

* * *

 **Chapter-15: Calm**

* * *

 _BPOV_

* * *

It's only after making Tony and I promise that we won't take any unnecessary risks that dad allows us to leave for work while he decides to take Rosalie to the police to file an official complaint just to ensure her protection.

When we walk through the doors of Inside Out, there's an uncharacteristic calm around us … as if someone died. My guess is me, judging by the "rampant bull" look Leah is aiming at me. "So _now_ you decide to show up for work," she says in a way of greeting.

"What?" I feign innocence and lift Tony's hand to check the time. "We're barely twenty minutes late. That's almost on time, boss."

She heaves a sigh. "So what should I do to congratulate you, Ms. Barone? Shall I give you my desk here to thank you for gracing us with your presence?"

"Nah, I'm good, Boss," I say, waving her off. "Besides, your desk gets way too much sun. I'll get wrinkles if I sit here. I'm okay at my desk."

"You, brat!" she slaps her hands on her desk as she struggles to stand up.

I pretend to be hurt and sniffle to add more effect to it. "Sure, you hate me. Why won't you? After all, I dared to publish an article without your approval. No matter if it's our most searched article ever or if we're the only webloid with the exclusive news, I, a measly reporter dared to think of by myself."

She groans. "Zip it with the theatrics, Barone." She picks up a legal looking sheet of paper from her desk and holds it up to my face. "Guess what this is?"

"Your maternity leave announcement?" I ask rather hopefully.

"No!" she barks out. "It's court summons. Jacob Black is suing Inside Out for defamation."

I gape at her. "What defamation? I never named him!"

"You didn't?" she challenges me. "Let's see what you wrote. Here - _A powerful member of the senate, having the initials of J.B._ … that's almost as good as plastering his photograph along with his name!"

I cringe. I shouldn't be allowed to drink.

"Now," Leah says taking a deep breath. "There's only two options open to you. First ..."

"Don't tell me to resign. I can't resign!" I blurt out. "Telling me to resign from my post is so unfair, Leah. I didn't write a single word of lie ..."

Leah holds a hand up to stop my word vomit. "Second ..."

I straighten my back and offer her a salute. "I'll do whatever you ask me to do."

"Do it properly," she says in a clear voice.

For a moment, all I can do is blink, pretty sure that I've heard her wrong. "What did you just say?" I finally manage to ask.

"Do it properly," she repeats. "Whether it's submitting evidence to back up your story or writing follow ups to the first article, do it right. Find something that we can use against Jacob Black. That's the only way we can survive this legal battle … by proving that what we reported is the truth."

With a smile on my face, I salute her. "Yes, ma'am." When I turn, there's an identical smile lighting up Tony's face as he nods to me.

 _It's on, Jacob Black._

* * *

 _EPOV_

* * *

I almost drop the coffee cup I'm holding when a voice says in my ear, "So I guess you're going to continue with this pretence of being Superman, huh?"

Placing the cup on the counter of the break room, I swear under my breath as I press on the minuscule earpiece attached to my ear. "Jesus, Esme! Are you trying to make me crap my pants?"

She laughs. "I bet that will make Isabella fall head over heels for you, Skid marks."

I hurramph. "Very funny."

She seems to sober at my unamused tone and says, "Play all you want, kid, but keep one thing in mind. If you get caught by the police, I'll ditch you."

I can't help but roll my eyes. "Esme, first, I've never seen you personally. You're just a disembodied voice in my head. So how am I going to get you in trouble? Besides, I don't even know where you live or what you look like. Hell, I don't even know if your name really is Esme or not!"

She's quiet for a moment before saying, "I'm sorry, Kid. I promise we'll meet before you sail off to that island."

The thought of retiring brings something up to me and pulling out my cell phone, I email the photograph to Esme before speaking again. "Es, I've just emailed you a photo. It's got my dad and the teacher and some other people. I need you to find out whatever you can on the others."

"Won't it be easier to ask your teacher about them?"

I sigh. "It would, but he's still unreachable. I've tried his number a million times."

"Figures," she answered. "He's a crazy old bastard. Anyway, I've got it, Kid. Don't you worry."

"Thanks, Es ..."

"Tony! Hey, Tony!" I barely manage to disconnect the call when Bella storms into the break room. "There you are! What are doing here alone?"

I hold up my coffee cup. "Just getting a coffee."

She nods before asking excitedly, "You have a driving license, right?"

"Yeah ..."

"Great!" She grabs my hand and starts to pull me out of the room. "You're coming with me."

* * *

Esme Platt hangs up on Virtuoso and dials a number on her phone, her eyes focused on the screen before her where the photograph Virtuoso sent is displayed. After three rings, the call connects to an answering machine. There's no welcoming message with directions though, just a silent beep.

"Hey Mr. Biers," she says. "Your student has grown up a lot lately. He's now interested in your friends. What should I do? Should I help him, or should I divert him? Please tell me what to do, Teacher." She takes a deep breath and decides to share another worry of hers with him. "Also, he's getting rather attached to this girl. I think she's starting to mess with his head and his work. If he continues this, we might need to let him go, Teacher. Do you have any other successors? Someone else who can be Virtuoso?" She sighs. "Call me, please. I need your guidance."

With that she disconnects the call, hoping she hears something from the teacher soon.

* * *

 **A/N: And the mystery returns. *Grins toothily***

 **Share your thoughts with me and leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Don't forget to check out the chapter pic on ScribblerAlliance. Also, be sure to check the blog for book reviews on Sundays.**

 **Have a good weekend.**

 **Love,**

 **Ann**


	16. Chapter-16: Tears

**A/N: Sorry for vanishing for the last few days, guys. It's been crazy in RL and this chapter was hard to write. But now I hope that I've got things a little under control. So here's a new chapter for you.**

 **WARNING!: This chapter contains descriptions of physical abuse. So approach with caution!**

* * *

 **Chapter-16: Tears**

* * *

 _BPOV_

* * *

Sitting in Anthony's car, I feel restless in the enclosed space. While he drives, I focus on trying to keep my breathing under control. It doesn't work. So I start humming a tune from one of mom's night time shows to keep my mind occupied.

Tony clears his throat before asking, "Everything alright, Ms. Bella?"

I nod. "Just drive."

"Umm … we are at the intersection. I need you to tell me which way to go."

"Oh!" I blush. "Sorry. I'm just nervous, I guess. Take left here please."

He's quiet for a moment before asking, "May I ask where we're going? Why are you so anxious?"

I wonder for a second on whether to tell him and spook him already or to hold off till we're there. I decide to be truthful to him at last. "We're going to meet a man named Royce King."

His brows knit together in confusion. "Is he a celebrity? I've never heard of him."

"No, he's a talent agent," I answer and then add, "And he double times as a pimp for Jacob Black."

His eyes widen. "Is he the one who forced Rosalie Hale to ..." he scowls, not finishing his thought.

I nod. "That's the one."

He looks forward and tightens his hold on the steering wheel. "Alright. Let's go then."

* * *

Both our confidences fall short as we approach King's home. We're almost ten feet away from the driveway when our eyes catch hint of black-clothed men … dozens of them, standing guard outside the house.

"Oh shit!" I swear. "Who are they?"

"Well, I don't think they're here to welcome us," Tony replies. "Ms. Bella?"

"Yes?"

"There's still time. I can turn the car around and we can go back."

"Is there an option B?" I ask.

"We can drive through the area, pretend that we're just people passing by?" His answer comes out sounding more like a question.

I look ahead at the men staring at our car and take a deep breath. "Let's drive through."

"Okay."

Tony barely manages to move the car an inch when I grab his hand. "Stop! We can't go without the interview. We need it."

He stops the car, and immediately my fear gets the best of me. "You know what, Tony? Maybe we can get an appointment and come back later."

"Okay."

He starts to move the car when I stop him again, holding a hand up this time. "No! We can't flee. We're legitimate journalists. We should be doing our jobs."

"So, shall we go?" he asks quizzically.

I nod and then shake my head. "Maybe after those men are gone."

Just as he starts moving the car again, a white Ferrari comes barrelling at us, squeaking its tires to come to a stop right in front of us and effectively blocking out way. A car door opens and out comes the guy from the night I was almost kidnapped. He comes forward, his eyes zeroing on me, a sneer playing on his lips.

He comes to open my car door and bows. "If it isn't the great journalist, Isabella Barone." His eyes fall on Tony and narrow for a moment before he grins. "No hurt feelings over that night, huh, big guy?"

I swear that for an instance it looks like Tony might actually punch the guy in face but then he looks away and steps out of the car to come and stand beside me.

"I'm guessing you're here to meet Mr. King?" the asshole from the other night asks.

"What are you doing here?" I can't help but ask.

He laughs. "Ah! Always the journalist. Well, Mr. King happens to be a dear friend of our boss. So Boss sent us to offer Mr. King some company."

I almost ask who his boss is, but decide to keep my questions for King instead.

The asshole and two of his wingmen escorts us inside the house and into a messy living room. There, standing before a case filled with trophies and such, is a man. He looks to be about forty and has jet black hair. Royce King faces away from us with a beautiful blonde woman standing next to him, her eyes downcast.

"Mr. King, hello!" the asshole greets him.

Royce turns around and smiles through his thin mustache. "James! My dear friend, it's always good to see you. How's Aro doing? Did he send you to see if his men are taking good care of me?"

"Yes, Sir," James answers.

"Well tell him thanks," Royce says. "Not a single reporter has bothered me so far ..." That's the moment his eyes find us. Narrowing his eyes at us, he asks harshly, "Who are they?"

James steps to the side and holds a hand out to point to me. "This is Isabella Barone, Mr. King." When Royce King doesn't show any signs of recognition, he adds, "The reporter who wrote that piece about Rosalie Hale and Mr. Black. We're pretty sure she also knows where Rosalie is hiding."

Royce's blue eyes get a glint of interest then. "Does she now?" he asks, a slow smile spreading on his lips. He takes a few steps toward me, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. "I must admit I'm disappointed," he says at last. "I expected it to be a man who had the balls to point a finger at Jake Black. It's a shame you're a girl."

I raise an eyebrow in a silent challenge and decide to test the waters. Standing my ground, I hold a hand out for him to shake. "Hello, Mr. King. I'm Isabella Barone from Inside Out News. I was hoping to ask you a few questions ..."

Instead of shaking my hand he walks forward, invading my personal space. "No phone call or email or an appointment and you just decided to come by and _chat_? That's not very professional of you, Ms. Barone."

I feel my cheeks heat up in embarrassment and something very much like anger. "I'm sorry, but I thought that if I called, you wouldn't take my calls."

His lips curls in a mocking smile. "You think?" he asks me, his eyes peering into my face. "Well, I guess you're not totally useless." He lifts a hand and grabs my chin in a rough grip, making me feel like gagging. "You've got the looks, Isabella. Want me to scout you? I can take you to places you've never been to."

 _Not on your life, you pervert!_ I want to scream, but instead take a deep breath and move my head to free myself of him. "That's very kind of you, but I'm really happy with my career at the moment." I take a few steps back from him and try to keep my calm as I start asking the questions. "Mr. King, do you know someone by the name of Rosalie Hale? She claims she was a part of your entertainment company."

He looks up at someone behind me-possibly James and grins. "This girl is looking prettier by the minute, man," he says in a lecherous voice.

I almost crumble at the filth in his voice, but I feel a hand on the small of my back, silently reminding me that I'm not alone. _Tony!_

Emboldened by his presence, I ask King again, "Do you know that Ms. hale has lodged a formal complaint against you? It includes bribery, prostitution and physical abuse. I would like to hear your side of the story."

Royce's face hardens at my words. "You know, Isabella, you might be pretty, but the things coming out of your mouth are not the least bit appealing. You shouldn't waste your time on this "story". No news media will publish it."

"That's not true," I protest. "Our Inside Out News ..."

"Inside Out, huh?" he asks, interrupting me. "Shall I sue that tabloid of yours for defamation? I bet your bosses will be on their knees, begging to blow me then."

"That's ..."

"Rosalie Hale," he says loudly. "Where is that whore?"

The degrading term makes my ears burn and I speak through clenched teeth. "Your language is becoming increasingly uncivil, Mr. King."

He doesn't seem to register my words. Instead, he keeps talking almost as if he's talking to himself. "So the bitch thinks I abused her, huh?" Without waiting for a response, he whirls around and walks up to the awaiting blonde woman. He looks at her and then slaps her hard.

"No!" I cry out as the woman screams in pain.

Royce doesn't stop there though. No, he strikes her again and again until she's lying at his feet, bent over in pain. He lands a kick on her and looks at me with a gleeful expression on his face. "Is this the physical abuse you talked about, Isabella?"

"Please stop!" I beg of him. Suddenly, I'm pulled back and then Tony is there, holding me in his arms and pushing my head to his chest to hide the horrific scene from my line of sight. "Ms. Bella, please let's go," he urges me.

I feel tears stream down my face, but I cannot look away from the scene unfolding before me. Tony hugs me tight and whispers in my ear. "Ms. Bella, please, we should go. Please."

Royce King hears him and shouts, "Don't you dare leave, you little bitch! I've still got things to say to you and that slut you're hiding." He grabs a handful of the woman's hair and hauls her up before throwing her on the floor again. "Look at this bitch. Bitches like this come to me, begging me to make them stars. So I do them a favor and help them be famous."

He lifts his foot to kick the woman again and she cries out in fear. The sight makes me feel nauseous and I feel like I can't get enough air in my lungs. I close my eyes and push my face to Tony's chest, wishing for this to go away.

* * *

 _EPOV_

* * *

Holding Bella to my chest, I wish like hell that I could simply take her away from this hellhole. I realized that I'd need help to get away from here. So raising my hand where Esme had insisted on placing a microphone on my wristwatch, I whisper, "We need help. Now."

"You got it, Kid," I hear her voice in my ear through the headphone disguised as a hearing aid. We don't have to wait long before James gets a call on his phone.

"What the fuck are you saying?" he barks into the phone. "How can my new car be haunted? Who the fuck is driving it?" His words make me realize that Esme must have hacked into the GPS system of his car and taken control of it. _Good one, Es._ I mentally high five her as I watch James take all his men and rush out of the house.

From behind us, the woman cries out again as Royce King continues to beat her. I feel Bella's knees buckle at the sound and I keep my arms around her as we both fall down to the ground. _I have to get her out of here._

I feel a hand grab my shoulder and pull me away from Bella. Royce King shoves me away from her as he kneels before her, a malicious glint of insanity in his eyes. "You're a reporter, aren't you?" he asks thoughtfully. "You bitches write what you see and experience first hand. So shall I give you a demo of physical abuse so you can write about it?" He laughs as she closes her eyes, tears trickling out of them.

Hatred and white hot anger at his very existence burns through me and I look around to find a way to get him away from her. I find a golf club laying close by on an indoor golf set. I slinker toward it, unnoticed by the asshole towering over Bella and pick it up. I stand up, take aim and swing the club. The satisfying sound of the club finding its mark on his shoulder followed by his howl of pain sends a rush of relief through me.

Throwing the club away, I rush to Bella and pull her to her feet and away from Royce King. "Bella," I call her name. She lets out a loud sob and hugs me tight. "Shh," I say to her. "Come with me. I'll get you out of here."

Holding her in my arms, I walk out of the house, leaving Royce King hunched over in pain.

* * *

 **A/N: So … thoughts?**

 **Share them with me and leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Check out ScribblerAlliance for the chapter pic.**

 **Love,**

 **Ann**


	17. Chapter-17: Dead Leaves

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. I had a surgery and life was pretty demanding. But now that I'm recouping, I have lots of time in my hands to write. So updates will be quicker. Thanks for your patience. :)**

* * *

 **Chapter-17: Dead Leaves**

* * *

 _BPOV_

* * *

I have no recollection whatsoever of running out of that decrepit place. All I remember is clutching Tony's hand in a death grip as he led me out of there. I focus on taking as much air as I can in my lungs, needing to keep the panic attack at bay. By the time I've got my breathing under control, Tony has me ducking behind a bush as he watches the men surrounding the house look around in apparent confusion.

"Ar-are they looking for us?" I manage to ask in a hoarse voice.

Tony nods in silence from next to me.

Just then, something catches my eyes. With a whoosh, James's white Ferrari scoots past the men before turning around and rushing in the opposite direction. The stench of burnt rubber fills the air as the car races with its tires squealing.

"Fuuuuck!" From somewhere out of my vision, I hear James cry out in fury. "Whoever the fuck is doing this is going to wish he was dead. I'mma kill that son of a bitch!"

One of his men asks, "Who are you talking about, Boss?"

James curses again. "It must be that fuckwit Virtuoso. He's yanking my chain. He's known for his notorious sense of humor."

Amidst the scene unraveling before our eyes, my mind races. This diversion is our chance, I realize. "Tony?" I call.

He manages an unintelligible mumble under his breath then asks, "Yes, Ms Bella?"

"Get ready," I instruct him. "The men are busy now. This is our chance to get out of here."

"How?"

"I'll count to three. On three, we'll both run out of here and make a dash for our car. You'll take the wheel and I'll be there to support you."

When there's no response from him, I turn my head to face him. He gulps and then asks in a whispered voice, "Can we exchange roles? Maybe you should take the wheel and I should be the backup ..."

I spear him with a glare and ask back, "Do you think I'd have asked you to do that if I had a driving license?"

He blinks. "You don't …?"

"Failed three times," I answer bitterly. Taking in a deep breath, I ask, "Ready?"

He lets out a sigh and answers, "Ready."

And then, we're running like bats out of hell, making a beeline for the car. I just about wrench open the car door and throw myself in the passenger seat. Turning my head, I see that Tony has managed to get there too. "Hurry!" I yell.

He shifts gears and we're off. A collection of screams tell us that we've been noticed. "They've seen us," Tony says, sounding panicked.

"Just drive and get us out of here," I instruct as he accelerates.

In the mad dash to get away from the mob of men carrying various weapons coming after us, Tony swerves and crashes into an oncoming car. "Shit!" he curses as smoke rises out of the bonnet.

"Let's get out," I say, throwing open my door. "We can ask these people for help."

Without arguing, he follows my suit just as a tall man with straw-colored hair gets out of the car we've crashed into. The man adjusts a badge on his hip and marches up to us. He gives us a once-over before asking, "Do you have any idea that you just damaged a federal vehicle?"

"You're a cop?" I ask back, feeling relieved.

He shakes his head. "FBI."

"Even better."

Just then, the crowd chasing after us reaches the spot and both Tony and I duck behind the FBI agent. With their weapons flashing in the sunlight, they try to get to us as the agent steps forward and raises a hand to stop them. "May I ask why you gentlemen are running around with firearms in broad daylight?"

"Who's asking" one of the men bark out.

"FBI special agent Jasper Whitlock."

The hands holding weapons lower at the sound of his designation and one by one the men disperse. Agent Whitlock stares after them for a few moments before turning around to face me. "May I ask who you are and why they were following you?"

I fish out my id and hand it over to him. "I'm Isabella Barone. I work for Inside Out News. Those men are angry about an article I wrote ..."

"Right," he nods as he hands me back my id. "You're the one who wrote the article about Jacob Black."

I'm shocked to find out that even the FBI has read my article. "You've read it?"

He grins. "Ma'am, we're humans. Everybody loves a little gossip."

I straighten my back and shoot back, "It's not gossip if it's true."

"Point well made," he says.

"Anyway, you need to hurry," I tell him. "There's a girl in there … Royce King was physically abusing her. I witnessed it. We both did, right, Tony?" As I look to my side, I realize that the spot where Tony was is empty. _What the fuck? Did the guy just ditch me?_

"Who's Tony?" Agent Whitlock asks.

"My junior journalist ..." I answer, smiling in embarrassment. "I think he ran off after seeing the men."

"In that case," he pulls open his car door and holds it for me. "I'll be happy to escort you to the station."

"But the girl ..."

He motions to his men walking up to the house. "My men are on it, Ma'am. You need to come with me and lodge a complaint with the police."

I nod. "Let's go then."

* * *

 **EPOV**

* * *

Making my escape from Bella is easy thanks to her one-track mind being focused on the men charging us. I duck into a public restroom and change my clothes before contacting Esme. "Where's James now?"

"Chasing after his car like a fool," she answers. "How long should I stall him?"

"Enough stalling," I tell her. "Take him to the place he took Bella to."

"But ..."

"NOW, Es!" I yell as I take off in that direction.

As I run, my muscles stretch like a well-oiled machine, and feeling the wind blow against my face is as exhilarating as it always is. "He's there," Esme's voice says in my ear.

"So am I," I answer as I pull on my mask.

For a second, I watch as Esme makes the Ferrari stall and James gets out of the car he took from his men. He approaches cautiously and starts throwing threats to the air. "Get out now, you bastard. Whoever you are, you're gonna wish you never touched my car," he shouts.

I sneak up to him from behind. He presses a remote and the convertible roof of the car retracts, revealing that it's empty inside.

"What the fuck?" His frown is clear in his voice. "Is this a joke?"

That's the moment I chose to jump at him from behind, pushing his head to the car's windshield. He screams and flails his hands. "Who are you?" he yells.

I pull out a cable tie from my pocket and tie his hands to the steering wheel with his face looking away from me.

I take a seat in the back seat of his car and let out a satisfied sigh as I look at my handiwork.

"Who the fuck are you?" he shouts again.

"Take a guess," I answer, egging him on.

"You're that Virtuoso dude, aren't you?" he asks after thinking for a moment.

"Bingo! See you're not as dumb as you look."

"Uncle Aro told me that you might come after me," he says. "So it's true then. You're always around that newsgirl."

I feel anger take hold of me as he addresses Bella so callously. "That newsgirl has a name," I bite out.

He laughs. "Why are you so interested in her? She's not even hot."

 _She's fucking beautiful,_ I want to say, but hold my tongue because he's blind to that kind of beauty. Instead, I land a kick on his butt that's facing me and say, "Don't be an asshole just because you are a jerk. And for your information, I am not interested in her. I used her as a bait."

"A bait?"

"Yes," I answer. "To lure you out here."

"If you needed to meet me so badly, you could've come to my office."

"Well, if I did, I wouldn't be able to do this ..." I say as I push his head down and check his jacket pockets. I find two cell phones in there - one with a cracked screen which he obviously uses regularly. The other phone is shinier and newer and I figure that he doesn't use it regularly … possibly to just contact his special clients.

I drop the first phone and hold the second up to him. "What's the password for this?"

He has the balls to laugh. "You think I'll just hand you the password on a platter?"

"Fair point." shoving the phone in my pocket, I pull my own phone out and switch on the camera. "Say cheese, motherfucker," I say before rapidly clicking a series of his pictures, all with his tied hands visible.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he demands, blinking at being momentarily blinded by the flash.

I stroke my chin and reply thoughtfully, "Well, I'm wondering what would happen when I hack into your security company's website and post these images there. Maybe I'll even add a caption giving myself the photo credit. What do you think?"

"Fucking asshole!" he curses out. "Why are you doing this?"

I hold up his phone to his face. "Give me the password."

"James1," he answers begrudgingly.

I nod and put in the password the screen lights up to reveal his ugly mug with an arm around a girl. "Fuckwit," I can't help but spit out and then start to search through his contact list. I feel my eyebrows pull together in confusion. "Why's there only one contact in your list? _The Owner_."

"T-that's mm-my girlfriend," he stutters, all bravado gone all of a sudden.

 _This must be what he's afraid I'll find,_ I realize. I start looking for media files in the phone. No images. Weird. That's when I stumble upon it … a voice recording.

Hitting play, I hold the phone to my ear.

A voice I recognize as James' says, "We've found the reporter who wrote that trash story about Mr. Black."

An unknown voice retorts, "What have you done about it so far? I need results, James!"

"Yes, Sir," James says. "We've figured out that she's connected to Virtuoso, the mercenary, somehow. It's like that son of a bitch is protecting her."

"Get rid of him then," the voice commands. "Or do I need to call your uncle Aro to tell him how you've been slacking?"

The recording stops and I hold the phone up to James' face. "Who are you talking to here? Who's _The Owner_?"

James cries out in pain as I pull his hair from behind. "Come on, man! You know I can't tell you. What happened to the business code? We're both on the same line of work here."

I yank on his head just a little more and snap at him, "I'm nothing like you! And if you won't tell me who he is, how about I call him then? Shall I call him and say that his little bitch spilled the beans on him to me?"

At the mention of him, James starts shaking like a dead leaf. "Please, don't do this," he pleads. "I'm telling you the truth. I don't know the man. I've only talked to him over phone."

Narrowing my eyes, I ask, "How did you come across him?"

"A few months back, Uncle Aro told me that this man bought our security company in the stock market. He holds the major shares of Volturi Guards. That's all I know."

"And you have no idea who you work for?" I ask incredulously.

He shakes his head. "I've only spoken to him twice. He usually communicates with my uncle. Please let me go."

Judging by the way his knees are shaking, I decide to accept his answers and get out of his car. "Well, James, I'm sure your men will find you here," I tell him as I drop his phones in the back seat of the car. "Pray you never cross my path again."

* * *

 **A/N: Share your thoughts with me and leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Chapter pic will be available in the ScribblerAlliance blog.**

 **See you Friday.**

 **Take care.**

 **Ann**


	18. Chapter-18: Tunnels

**A/N: Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter-18: Tunnels**

* * *

 _BPOV_

* * *

I'm brought out of my haze of thoughts by the placement of a steaming mug of coffee in front of me.

"I didn't know how you take your coffee. So I put both cream and sugar in it," Agent Whitlock says as he takes a seat across from me.

"That's fine. Thank you," I say gratefully, wrapping my palms around the mug, letting the heat seep into my body.

"So," he starts. "You went to interview Royce King?"

I nod, suddenly feeling like I'm in an interrogation room like the TV shows despite being in the middle of a buzzing police station. "I did, but he behaved unprofessionally. I witnessed him physically abusing one of his female employees. Hell, I was nearly beaten myself," I add with a shudder.

Agent Whitlock frowns. "Were the men following you present during this encounter?"

"Yes, I think they were guarding Royce King's place," I reply. "I think they were the same men who tried to kidnap me just days ago."

"They tried to kidnap you? Did you file a report about it?"

I shake my head. "I didn't know who they were, but there must be a note or something in the police files stating that they got a 911 call and saved me before the men could hurt me."

"Is there any witness to prove that the same men tried to kidnap you?"

"Anthony, my junior reporter was with me when they took me. He even got beaten trying to save me," I tell him, my heart suddenly crumbling at the thought of poor Tony.

Agent Whitlock furrows his brows. "If he was injured, there must be a medical record of it?"

"No, he gets spooked easily," I say. "So I took care of him myself."

"Is he the one who hit my car and then ran?"

I cringe at how reckless that makes Tony sound. "I think he got scared after he learned that you're FBI," I try to explain. "He has a tendency to run away when he's afraid. But he's not a coward … he's just immature."

His lips turn upwards and without another word on the topic, he opens up the laptop sitting on the desk between us and types up something. Then he turns the laptop to show me the screen, and I see my article about Rose staring back at me.

"Ms. Barone, did you write this article?" he asks.

Squaring my shoulders, I say, "Yes, and that's why I went to see Royce King. I want to write a follow-up report on it."

"Is the woman you mentioned in his article Ms. Rosalie Hale?"

Smiling, I tell him, "I can't give you that information, Agent. That's confidential."

He chuckles. "What if I tell you that Mr. King has just sued Ms. Hale?"

"That prick!" I can't help but bite out. "What is he suing her for?"

"Defamation," he answers calmly. "You and your editor is also being sued for harassment. As for the accusations you made about him hurting his employee, my men found no evidence of it when they got to his house. He was alone in his study."

The words make the hairs on the back of my neck stand, and suddenly, I feel like I'm making a huge mistake by talking to the cops without my father there to defend me. Quickly, I grab my purse and stand up. "Thanks for the coffee, Agent, but I've got to go."

"Ms. Barone ..."

I plaster a trademark smile on my face and say, "I'm a reporter for the Inside Out News. Call me at my office anytime you need. It was good to meet you, Agent Whitlock." With that, I practically run out of there, without allowing him to utter another word.

* * *

Getting out of there, I dial my dad's number. Two rings and then it goes to voicemail. Disconnecting the call, I try again with the same results. Then, I decide to call my mom who thankfully, picks up.

"Bella?"

"Mom! Where's dad?" I ask. "He's not taking my calls."

"He went to the police with Rosalie," mom answers. "She's supposed to give her statement today."

"Oh crap!" I slap a hand to my forehead.

"Is everything okay?" Mom asks, sounding worried. "Honey, talk to me. Are you alright?"

"Yes, Mom. Everything is fine. Don't worry. I'll talk to you when I get home." I hang up before she can question me further.

For a moment, all I can do is breathe, letting the oxygen get to my brain. _If Royce has sued Rosalie, her statement won't be a victim's but rather a defendant's now,_ I realize. Suddenly, it feels like I'm in a tunnel with darkness pressing on me from all around. Like any tunnel, however, I see a point of light … one way to protect the truth.

It takes me barely twenty minutes before I am clutching a paper with a phone number scribbled on it. I take a deep breath and send a quick prayer to God that I'm doing the right thing before dialing. The call connects after just one ring.

"Hello?" a voice answers, familiar and gravelly.

"Mr. Cullen," I greet. "This is Isabella Barone."

He sounds delighted when he speaks next. "Ms. Barone! What a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe this honor? A lowly news-thief like myself?"

I feel my cheeks flush at the not-so gentle reminder of our previous encounter. I decide to be honest and lay it all out to him. "Listen, Mr. Cullen, I know what I said earlier, but this is bigger than I can handle." Before he can gloat, I add, "I don't have that big of an influence to handle it, that is."

"So now you want my help?" his smugness is palpable.

"Sadly, yes," I reply. "But I have my conditions."

"Let's hear them then."

"First," I state, counting with my fingers. "You'll have to relay the truth. I will give you Rosalie Hale's statement and even an interview with her if you want, but you'll need to convey the news as it is."

"Why the change of heart, may I ask?"

I sigh. "Royce King has pressed charges against Rosalie Hale, as well as on me."

"I see," he says mildly. "Your article said Ms. Hale was blackmailed, how exactly?"

"Royce has videos of her … videos that would ruin her and her family."

"Have you procured any of these videos?"

I can't help but roll my eyes heavenward. "You think I'd be asking for your help if I had? That bastard Royce has them, I'm sure. If I was trained to be an investigative journalist like you, I would've worked it out by myself, but I … can't," frustration runs through me as I confess my inability.

There's a pause in the line before Carlisle Cullen speaks again. "Alright, Ms. Barone, I'll help you," he says. "But from now on, you'll have to do exactly as I say. Do we have a deal?"

Straightening my back, I whisper, "Yes."

 _God help me! I hope I didn't just make it worse._

* * *

 **A/N: So… thoughts?**

 **Share them with me and leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Chapter pic will be available on the blog.**

 **See you next time.**

 **Love,**

 **Ann**


	19. Chapter-19: Change

**A/N: Ready for more?**

* * *

 **Chapter-19: Change**

* * *

 **EPOV**

* * *

A few keystrokes and the light turns green. "I changed it; happy?" I mutter as I get into my home. With the sparse furnishing, it's what I need, and what Esme despises. She calls it my rabbit hole, but it's the only place where I can be myself.

"Happy?" Esme snarls in my ear. "Do you take your security lightly now too? Have you become that reckless? You're lucky I was there to save the day today."

Resisting an eyeroll, I plop my ass down on the futon and let out a sigh of relief. "I know, Es. That was a foolish stunt we pulled."

She snorts as if to say 'Ya' think' and then says, "She's not safe for you."

I feel a smile tug at the corners of my lips as I reply, "Safety is overrated. She's exactly right for me." Before she can launch into another whine-fest, I quickly change the subject. "So have you heard the recording in James' phone?"

"I did."

"And?" I press.

"The voice is a positive match for Philip Dywer."

I slap a hand to my thigh. "I knew it! My hunch was correct!"

"Yeah, yeah, stop clapping yourself on the back. Do you even realize that how many powerful people are out there to get to you? You really want add to that?"

I nod. "He asked the Volturi to get rid of me. Do you think they framed me for the Simmons murder?"

Esme's quiet for a moment. Then she asks, "If they did, what do you plan to do about it?"

"I'll get even," I say simply. "Before they can get rid of me, I'll get rid of them."

* * *

 _EsmePoV_

* * *

I play the voice recording of Virtuoso again and wait for him to respond. When there's no answer to my silent question, I decide to voice it. "So what do you think of your student?"

A soft chuckle sounds before his voice comes through the speaker. "He's got balls, that one."

"Balls?" I repeat. "He's way over his head, and all you've got to say is that he's got balls? Mr. Biers, might I remind you that if Edward finds out about his father's shared past with Philip Dwyer he might go rogue?"

"You mean the fact that his father, Phil, and I were friends?" he asks mildly. "You've spent the last few years in close contact with him, Detective, tell me do you think he'll go rogue?"

"Shut the fuck up!" I burst out before I can control myself.

He laughs. "Still hate being reminded of your past, huh?"

"Never call me that," I snap at him. "YOU brought him up, Biers, so you tell me."

"Honestly? I think the boy's crazy with a capital K," he says. "I mean he wants to quit this job and live in a deserted island. That's just … crazy!"

I huff, my heart aching for the boy I've watched grow up into a man. "Mr. Biers, he's not the crazy one," I say angrily. "All his life, he's been left by those he loved. His mom, his grandmother and then you, his mentor. So you really shouldn't fault him for wanting to get away from the hurt."

"What's this, Platt?" He sounds amused. "Are you going soft? Have you forgotten what his father did?"

"Edward Masen Sr., born 1963, was convicted of murder of his best friend, Charlie Swan, I know. But I don't hold it against Virtuoso. He shouldn't be punished for what his father did."

In a sardonic tone, Riley Biers says, "Edward's mom told him his dad died in a car crash. How do you think he'll react when he finds out the truth?"

"He'll deal with it," I say tightly. "He's a strong man, not the pitiful boy anymore."

"Good," he says before the call disconnects.

* * *

 _EPOV_

* * *

I manage to fall asleep … almost. But a sudden beep makes me aware of my surroundings again.

I see that like most days I'm lying on my couch with the Animal Planet tuned on TV. _Beep_

"Where's that sound coming from?" I wonder as I sit up. That's when I see it. The briefcase I carry to work, lying inconspicuously on the table. There's a cell phone in there. _Is that where the beeping is coming from?_

Just as I open the briefcase, the sound comes again and this time I see the faint blue light of the cell phone light up the screen. It's Anthony's phone. I'm pretty sure no one has the number. Esme got this for appearances sake. Then who…?

My question is answered as I slide to unlock the phone. _3 messages_. I scroll through them and feel a smile tug at the corners of my mouth. _Silly girl._

Message 1:

 _Hey Tony. This is your number, right? I got this from your employee file. Just checking in to make sure you're okay._

Message 2:

 _Tony, you fucking coward! How could you run away like that? Were you that scared? You could've told me instead of leaving me, idiot!_

Message 3:

 _Are you okay? You were so scared, weren't you? I understand, Tony. Just call me. Let me know you're okay._

As I'm reading the messages for the second time, a fourth message pings.

Message 4:

 _I'm sorry for throwing you into that crazy-fest. God … I feel like dying._

I feel my brows pull together at the last sentence. _She feels like dying?_ Why? What could've happened while I was gone?

* * *

 **A/N: Another piece of puzzle for you guys.**

 **Share your thoughts with me and leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Love,**

 **Ann**


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